Train-ed Killer
by SherlockChlo
Summary: The sequel to 'A Poisoned Woman'. Sherlock is having some trouble when he returns from the three years that he was 'dead'. Everyone has moved on, except one person. When Sherlock and John, along with Molly and Irene Adler, are set up for the vicious murder of six people on a train, will Sherlock's problems get in the way and destroy him from the inside out?
1. Chapter 1

_**Hello once again. Here's the start of the Sequel to 'A Poisoned Woman'. I'd suggest that you'd read that before this, but it doesn't matter if you don't. It's your choice, of course. Any way, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of a new Fanfiction from a Fandom that I, sadly, do not own. All rights go to SACD and the BBC. **_

**Train-ed Killer**

_Sherlock Holmes and John Watson had solved many crimes together in their time of living with one another in their flat in London. Especially before all of the Jim Moriarty cases spilled up and caused Sherlock's 'death'. Three years he remained hiding out of his friend's life trying to keep him and the others around him safe from Moriarty's men. But then he returned. They both knew that their relationship would never be the same as it once was, but they continued to strive to make it better no matter what._

Now, one year after Sherlock returned,John is married to Mary. Sherlock was his best man during the service. And one old enemy is about to return, continuing what they have wanting to do for the past five years. Their plan was interrupted by Sherlock's untimely 'death', so they could not fulfil their want. But now Sherlock has returned and they will have their revenge against him. Moriarty is dead, what more could Sherlock do. But now Sherlock isn't the same as he once was. What has happened to him, or what is happening? And how will it affect his powers in defeating an old enemy?

_**Chapter 1**_

_**Accused**_

John was visiting 221B as he usually did most mornings to see Sherlock about any new cases that there may be for them to throw themselves into. This morning though, something was different. There were no gunshots from upstairs. No sound of Sherlock shouting at himself or at the wall. No experiments awaiting John as he climbed the stairs. Sherlock's presence, in fact, was nowhere to be seen.

"Sherlock?" John shouted for him, continuing to look around.

Eventually, after much shouting, he plucked up the courage to go into his friend's room, knowing how dangerous this could be for him. "Sherlock, I'm coming in." John bounded into Sherlock's room not knowing that he hadn't locked it. Why hadn't he? Inside John found Sherlock in bed, covering his legs with the duvet. "Good morning." He couldn't understand why Sherlock wasn't up, considering he was usually awake at the stupidest of times in the morning when John had lived there with him. Sherlock, however, didn't stir. He wore his pyjamas and blue dressing gown in the bed, making sure that the dressing gown wrapped around his frame. He was curled into a ball clutching his knees tightly into his chest. Something was definitely wrong with him and John knew it. His hair was scruffier then usual, but the bouncing curls were still there. His face was covered in the dark tangles, his eyes tightly shut. "Sherlock?" John asked as he approached his friend. "Are you okay?" He pulled a piece of hair out of Sherlock's face, and jumped slightly when he saw a pair of icy-blue eyes, open wide, staring straight at him. Apart from that, Sherlock didn't move any part of his body. His eyes stared forward and refused to even flinch. John moved his hand and started it place it on Sherlock's forehead. "You look very pale-"

Sherlock grabbed John by the wrist and tightened his grip. "Do. Not. Touch. Me." John could see the anger practically dripping from Sherlock's eyes. He threw John's hand away and replaced himself to his foetal position. John was scared; he had never seen Sherlock like this before.

John gulped before replying, "Is there something wrong, Sherlock?" Sherlock's eyes moved to look right at John again. John stood up and moved back in fear of something happening to him, he knew what Sherlock could do.

"Oh, I'm fine John. There's nothing wrong with me..." The last time Sherlock had said that to John was during the Hound of the Baskerville case; he was truly terrified of his emotions at that point. Sherlock's eyes looked John up and down, he then rose from his position to tower over his friend. "Why would you think that something is wrong?" His face was emotionless and his frame held well, but John could see the thirst behind his eyes.

John held his hands up to stop his friend from coming any closer to him, but Sherlock continued to walk forward. "Sherlock. I was only trying to help you." Sherlock's head tilted, it was as if he was possessed.

"Is that what you call it? 'Helping'..." Without John even knowing how he'd got hold of it, Sherlock lifted a knife towards his throat. "Will Mary miss you, John?" John didn't flinch as the knife was pressed deeper into his neck.

"I think the question is, will _you _miss me?" John was brave and still standing tall.

"That's not the problem, John."

"What _is _the problem, Sherlock?" John still remained clam even though the knife was still pressing deeper.

"What is the problem?" Sherlock sounded angry now, his emotions were getting the better of him. "You want to know what _the _problem is." Sherlock removed the knife slightly, changing the angle. "_You."_

"Me?"

"Oh yes, John. The _final problem _is," Sherlock stabbed the knife into the wall behind John making sure that it rattled in John's ear when it hit. "_You!" _Sherlock walked away from John and got back into bed, he wasn't surprised that John never flinched. He was an ex-soldier after all. When he looked over at Sherlock after standing contemplating whether Sherlock could actually kill him or not, he saw that Sherlock had returned to his exact position from before. This time though, his eyes were closed again. John couldn't manage any words to Sherlock, so he left the flat in silence, saying a quick 'goodbye and good luck' to Mrs Hudson as he ran out of the door. She would need it the way that he was behaving today.

Mrs Hudson walked upstairs trying her luck with Sherlock. "Good morning, Sherlock. I've brought you your nicotine patched, just like you-what are you doing?" Mrs Hudson walked into Sherlock's room to find him hanging from the ceiling. "That's not a good experiment for you to do, you know." To most people he would look like he had just hung himself, however Mrs Hudson had worried about it several times before, so this time she was used to it.

"Why not? There's nothing else to do in this godforsaken place."

"You're going to ruin that, you know dear." Sherlock huffed and let himself drop.

"Don't tempt me, Mrs Hudson." Sherlock was standing by the window, his dressing gown half hanging from his shoulder. Mrs Hudson left the patches on his pillow and started to walk away. "What did John say to you as he left?" She stopped.

"He said goodbye-"

"And?" Sherlock had taken the knife from the wall and was twisting it in his hand.

"Good luck. What is that supposed to mean." Sherlock started to move closer. "There's nothing to be lucky about."

"Are you absolutely sure?" Sherlock asked her. His hands were behind his back, so she couldn't see the ever turning knife.

"Well, you're not a monster, Sherlock, so I don't see any dangers in this flat that I would need luck for." Mrs Hudson walked forward and placed her hand onto Sherlock's cheek. She stroked it lightly with her thumb, wiping some dirt off. Sherlock walked away from her in a sulk. "No cases then, I suppose. Don't worry, Sherlock. Something interesting will turn up soon, I'm sure of it." Mrs Hudson told him as she walked out of his room and back downstairs.

"Oh, but there's something happening right now, Mrs Hudson." Sherlock was standing back at the window, his hand resting on the frame as he leant against it. His eyes wandered across the streets that he could see from his room looking for John, if he could see him. But John was long gone and nothing outside was interesting. "Yours and everyone else's petty minds just can't see it yet." Sherlock walked into the bathroom and started to change, he knew that Lestrade would be here soon. Better dress for the occasion.

Meanwhile, John had returned to Mary's safety. "I'm home, Mary." His voice trembling slightly; now was the time that he could let out what he truly felt when Sherlock attacked him. Mary came out of the kitchen and stared at John for a few seconds, knowing that something has happened to him. She could see it in his eyes.

"What happened?" Mary asked John as she pulled him close to her. "You're shaking, John. What happened?" In her protection, John tried to hold back the tears that could that could easily have formed in his eyes by now. He wanted to remain strong and brave, even if it was just for Mary's comfort. "John."

"Sherlock is just acting a bit strange, that's all." John tried to say to her, but Mary wasn't having any of it. She shook her head at his reply telling him that she didn't believe him. "What?" She pushed him out slightly so that they could see each other.

"We're married, John. I need you to be honest with me. Especially when it comes to Sherlock Holmes." Mary then noticed the red blood mark on John's neck where the knife that Sherlock held pierced his skin. "What's this?"

"Oh it's nothing."

"That's not good enough. Please John."

John cleared his throat before beginning. "Sherlock was acting strangely-"

"By doing what, exactly?"

"He was still in bed." Mary laughed, even though she was trying to hold it back. "There's always something wrong if Sherlock Holmes is still in bed at this hour. He looked very pale and half-dead if ask me. It was the way he was laying. I went to put my hand on his forehead, a regular temperature check, when he grabbed my wrist." John showed Mary his wrist, that was bruising that Sherlock hadn't seen. "It's alright." He told her as she held his wrist. "He told me, well shouted, that I can't touch him. I started to back away and that's when, he jumped out of bed and somehow got hold of a knife. Eventually, I was backed against the wall and he had a knife pressed against my throat." The memories caused John to scrape slightly at his neck wound. "He told me that I was _the _problem."

"The problem?"

"The final problem. I believe that Moriarty said that to him once... Before the, erm."

"Before the fall?" John nodded, so Mary pulled him in again to continue hugging him properly.

"He stabbed the wall with the knife, Mary. Right next to my ear. I can still hear what he intended me to hear; the shatter of the wall as the knife hit." John buried his head into Mary's hair and held her tightly.

"You're phoning Greg, right now. He needs to know about this." John pushed away and shook his head. There was slight terror behind his eyes now, and Mary could see that. "Why not?" John licked his lips slightly, his breathing increasing.

"No, Mary, I can't." Mary looked at him with questioning eyes. "He-He asked me whether you'd miss me or not." Before John could do anything Mary had picked up the phone and dialled 999.

"Hello. Can I speak to Detective Inspector Lestrade, please. He works at Scotland Yard, yes." John placed his hands on top of his head and rubbed his fingers through his hair. He couldn't believe what had happened to him already today. "Greg? It's Mary Watson. Yes, it's lovely to speak to you too." She paused for a second. "Where are you?" Mary then walked forward to John and placed the phone where both of them could hear it. "You're already at the flat? That was quick, we hadn't even phoned you about it yet. What?" John grabbed the phone from Mary's hand.

"You're arresting him for what?" John looked at Mary and mouthed 'he's being arrested for some train crime'. Her eyes twitched, Sherlock had been his flat the whole time, hadn't he? "Wait for me."

"I'm sorry, John. We're outside and about to go in. We can't wait for you." Lestrade told him down the other end of the phone.

"Okay. I'll be there as soon as I can any way. You need to explain everything to me because you remember what happened the last time you arrested him for something he didn't do."

"We'll see you soon then, John. Take care."

"Oh, and Lestrade. Be careful. He has a knife and he's not afraid to use it." John didn't know why he'd said it in that way, but it was better for him to know that Sherlock could be armed. He hung up the phone and replaced it onto the stand. "Mary, I'm going out." She sighed at him.

"After what he's done to you this morning?" Mary asked him with concern. "You can't trust him John. I'm surprised that you forgave him after what he put he put you through. Three years, John, three years." John moved towards Mary and held her hands in his.

"And if it wasn't for those three years that Sherlock Holmes didn't screw up my relationships, we wouldn't be together and married, would we?" John smiled at his wife and received a smile back. He kissed her forehead and then ran out the door for 221B.

Sherlock sat waiting in his chair. He was playing his violin a few minutes previously, but now he decided to stop because of the ever-growing crowd outside. It was just like before. "Every single officer you've ever made feel like a tit is queuing outside to slap on the handcuffs." John's comment from four years ago kept spinning in Sherlock's head. He could hear the knock on the door downstairs so strapped his scarf around his neck. When Mrs Hudson, yet again, tried to stop them and warn them away from the stairs, Sherlock placed his coat upon himself.

"Sherlock." Lestrade started when he entered Sherlock's flat, to find him standing facing away from him.

"It's time, isn't it." Lestrade nodded so that Sherlock could see him in the mirror, his eyes telling him that he was sorry for what he was about to do. For what he had to do, _again._

"Sherlock Holmes. I'm arresting you on suspicion of the murder of six people on a train from Brighton to London last night. You have the right to remain silent. You do not have to say anything. Anything you do say, however, will be used if you refuse to answer a question you later rely on in court." Lestrade placed the handcuffs on Sherlock's wrists, trying not to hurt him too much. This time, compared to the last time, Anderson and Donovan came into the flat trying to make their point.

"Fix it this time, smart ass." Anderson punched Sherlock round the face, trying to make him feel as stupid as possible for being caught.

"We won't let you get away this time, freak. There's no John Watson to save you either." Sally Donovan started to taunt Sherlock now too. He didn't care though, maybe he deserved it.

"Don't be so sure." John was now standing in the doorway, his arms folded. Sherlock smirked slightly, now John would moan about what happened earlier, surely? "Six murders in one night, on one specific train? I'm sorry Lestrade, but Sherlock was with Mary and I last night. He most certainly wasn't in Brighton to have been able to get the train back here to have killed those people." Sherlock didn't move, it was as if he wanted this to happen.

"Oh please John." Sherlock mumbled.

"Come on, take him away." Anderson shouted, so Sherlock was viciously shoved down the stairs and slammed onto a police car.

"Why was Mary calling me any way, John? Surely it was important if she asked me why I was _already _here." John shook his head, he didn't want Lestrade to know, especially since Sherlock was already I enough trouble. "Do I have to call her and ask?"

"I was calling because Sherlock attacked my husband." Mary was standing in the hallway watching everything.

"No Mary, please. Lestrade it was nothing." Mary walked towards John and lifted his head up so that Greg could see the cut across John's neck. She then pulled his sleeve back so that the bruising on his wrist could also be seen. "It's fine, honestly." John too remembered how everything went four years ago when Sherlock was accused of the kidnap. He didn't want that to happen again. John raised his hands, Lestrade flinched at his actions. "Oh, you think-right." He once again brushed his hands through his hair, ruffling it as he walked down the stairs. "Come along Mary. We're following that car!" John jumped into the car that Mary drove here in and turned the engine on. Mary followed, hopping into the passenger's side. The car then whizzed away, following the police car that Sherlock was in.

At the police station, John was stopped before he could go inside by Anderson. "Oh, sorry. Your little sociopath can't come out and play today. Try again tomorrow."

"Anderson he's not even putting up a fight. He's letting _you _walk all over him, even though he hasn't done anything wrong. Can't you see that?" John stared up at Anderson slightly, watching as he started to laugh.

"Can't you see that I will continue to suspect him until we have proof that it wasn't him that kidnapped those children four years ago-"

"No. His name was cleared, Anderson. You really need to get over this grudge that you have against him because he's a good man. Granted it's when he wants to be." John snapped at him, noticing how his eyes rolled. It wasn't exactly hidden from him. "He 'died' for my safety. For Mrs Hudson's safety. For Lestrade's safety. If he hadn't sacrificed himself that day, then none of us would be here today. We would have all been shot, Anderson. Now I know that probably doesn't mean anything to you, but it means a lot to me." Lestrade walked behind Anderson, without him even realising his approach.

"I should kill you right here and now just to prove that your precious little freak can't protect you any more." John's eyes kept flicking to the man that stood behind Anderson, but he didn't ever get the picture. "What are you going to do about it, John? You can't do anything."

"No, I can't." John's head drooped slightly. Anderson laughed knowing that he had power over John. "But he can." His arm lifted so that he was pointing at Lestrade behind the man in front of him.

"Anderson." Anderson's eyes widened, he knew that he was in for it now. " I am officially suspending you from the force for the next two months." Anderson now turned to face his boss. His hands remained in his pockets and he tried to remain calm.

"Sir-"

"No complaints. John doesn't deserve this kind of crap from you right now. His friend who appeared from the dead a year ago has just threatened to take his life. And now he's in custody for something I know that he didn't do." Anderson's eyes opened wider. "Don't look at me like that. Now, badge, gun, handcuffs." Anderson handed them to him in a strop. "Goodbye. Collect your stuff." John looked the man up and down and then smiled. Anderson pushed past Lestrade and walked to the changing rooms in order to collect everything. "And you." Lestrade pointed at John. "You better not cause too much trouble for me here today." John smiled and followed his friend inside.

"You do realise that Sherlock isn't even resisting. He had no plan of escape this time and here he is, in custody."

"Yes John. Do you think he _wants _to be here?"

"Originally, I think that he thought you were arresting him for his attack on me."

"He should still get charged for that, John." Mary appeared by John's side and decided to put her point into the conversation.

"No. There's something wrong with him. Sherlock Holmes does not stay in bed until 08:30. It's literally impossible for him to sleep for three hours. He was frozen, Lestrade. In his bed, he didn't even blink. He wouldn't try and kill me either, he just wouldn't." Lestrade listened but he was still was confused as to what John was trying to tell him. "There's something wrong in his mind. It isn't working to his normal high functioning standard, and that's what's killing him. He was almost dead earlier, I know he was." All three of them stopped and looked at each other. "Can I see him?"

"I'll give you a few minutes, but that's it." John was pleased with that, expecting that he would probably think that he was trying to help Sherlock to escape. "Let him in." Lestrade ordered the officer on the door as John approached Sherlock's cell.

"Thanks." John started to walk into the cell and turned around. "No. Nobody else, please. It has to be on my own." Lestrade nodded placing his hand on Mary's shoulder.

"Come Mary, we'll get you a cup of tea." Mary allowed John to do this, so she followed Lestrade.

"Thank you." John turned back into the cell to his friend curled up in the corner, head in lap and clutching his legs tightly to himself. John jumped slightly when the cell door slammed shut, turning back to to the door watching the officer's face disappear. When he looked back at Sherlock, his face was looking up at John with the same expression as this morning. However he looked worse, even more colour had drained from his face. It made Sherlock's cheekbones stick out more, making him look more like a skeleton than an alive human.

"They let you in them. Allowed you to come and taunt me, before you increase my charges by telling them about that." John clutched his neck without realising what Sherlock was trying to do. "You should just say that I almost killed you and then be done with it. You may leave." John removed his hand from his neck and walked towards his friend. Sherlock watched as he approached, not even moving when he came to kneel next to him.

"I've told Lestrade that I'm not charging you for this," John held his wrist to show him what damage he had done. "and you'll pleased to know that Anderson has been suspended." Sherlock chuckled slightly.

"Threatened to kill you, didn't he." Sherlock looked at John with one of his smug glances. He knew that he was correct, but he enjoyed the looks that John would give him when he was baffled by Sherlock's response to things. "They shouldn't have let you in here with me, John. I'm surprised you were allowed in here before the questioning. That's a bit suspicious."

"I'm surprised too, to be honest with you, Sherlock. But I know that they're listening to us right now to check if I'm helping you to escape. However, we do have still have some friends on the force. Lestrade would let me in here without any regrets."

"Why would you do that? I have nothing to escape from. I did not kill those six people on that train because, as you said, I spent most of the night with yourself and Mary. So, I don't see why I should be kept in here like an animal, when I have nothing. To. Hide." John had moved back slightly, this was turning into another one of Sherlock's episodes.

"What evidence do they have?" Sherlock hummed. "They must have some evidence to say that it was you, because otherwise, you can't be here." Sherlock's look remained the same, still full of hatred, anger and the hunger that still beckoned him in the back of his mind.

"Signature." Sherlock mumbled.

"A what?"

"A signature, John. _My _signature." John looked him up and down. "Someone killed those people on the train and is trying to get me to take the custodial sentence for them, by using my signature."

"Did the police tell you that?"

"No, but it's obvious. They didn't check my flat for anything because they don't need evidence as to support their claim. Conclusion, they already have it."

"But you weren't there so how did-" The cell door locked. "Oh, Jesus." John rummaged his hand through his hair again, slumping himself down the wall so he sat next to Sherlock. "They found my signature as well, didn't they?" Sherlock nodded still facing where John stood before. "So, hello. I'm your new cell mate." John could see that this didn't amuse Sherlock in the slightest. "Why didn't they just arrest me on the spot?"

"It was easier for them if you came here on your own accord. Simple really. Shame people like you can't use their brains, John." Sherlock looked John up and down as he sat next him. "Are you upset about something?" He asked after exactly five minutes and forty two seconds of both men sitting in silence next to each other.

John jumped up from where he sat and started to pace around the cell, his hands flying around him as he spoke. "First you try and kill me, which is extreme considering four years ago you 'killed' yourself to save my life. Then you get arrested and I can't do anything to stop it because we have no proof that you were actually with us last night. And now, I'm arrested as well, for something I know that I most certainly didn't do . And you just insulted my intelligence, _again. _So I'm not having a brilliant day, no. Which makes my brain twirl I so many directions I don't know which way it wants to take me. This person is walking around free, just like Moriarty did. And look how that turned out." John stood next to the wall now, his fist smashing against it to show his anger.

"I take that as a presumptuous yes." Sherlock mumbled.

"Of course it's a fuc-"

"Get your hands off me!" A woman's voice rattled through the cell.

"Ah, they've got Molly now I believe."

"Molly Hooper? Yes, she's in the cell next to those two freaks."

Molly's voice could be heard throughout the corridor of cells, she was here too? However she put up more of an attempt to not be than Sherlock had done. "You have no right in doing this Sally."

"Oh, Donovan. She is probably responsible for all of this, isn't she?" John asked Sherlock, his friend still hadn't moved.

"Molly, you're arrested now. All of your rights, apart from having certain hygienic utensils and a lawyer, have all gone. Now shut up and get in." The cell door next to John and Sherlock's slammed shut.

Molly wouldn't give up her fight though, "I demand a lawyer! This is against my human rights." Before John could shout anything to Molly to get her to calm down, their own cell door opened showing two heavily armed men. Sherlock stood up and held his arms behind his back. One of the men walked forward, turning Sherlock around and slapping the handcuffs on tight around his wrists. John followed Sherlock's movements, not wanting to be split up. When both of the men were cuffed they were shoved out of the cell and into the corridor, where they could hear Molly still kicking against the door. "Let me out! I haven't done anything to anyone!"

"Molly, I think you bets be quiet." Sherlock shouted at her, they would all get into far more trouble if she didn't quieten down.

"Sherlock? What's going on? Why are we being held here?"

"Molly, just keep calm about all of this." John said, trying to show her some comfort.

"John? Who's next, Irene Adler?" As soon as Molly finished her sentence, John and Sherlock saw another familiar face.

"Apparently so." Sherlock said as Irene was pushed past them into Molly's cell.

"Irene Adler is still alive. Wow. You must help her a lot." Sherlock rolled his eyes at John's response to Irene.

"Oh fantastic. I even get a cell mate in this place, how exciting." Irene was obviously not too keen on sharing with Molly, for she knew of Molly's feelings for Sherlock. They both had them, and neither was prepared to admit it. "And it's Molly Hooper, even more fantastic." Irene's voice trailed off as the door shut.

"Will she be okay?" John asked Sherlock as they continued their walk towards their separate rooms.

"I'm sure that Irene Adler can manage Molly Hooper sharing a cell with her for a few days." Was Sherlock's reply.

"No I'm talking about Moll-It doesn't matter." John looked around for a few moments and then asked, "Where are we going, exactly?" Sherlock was silent once more, so John eventually followed. At the end of the next corridor they were shuffled into two different rooms in order for the police to ask some questions. Sherlock was placed into the chair and then de-cuffed carefully, the door closing quietly behind Lestrade. It was typical that Sherlock managed to get the officer that both men trusted. John, on the other hand, was shoved onto the chair, de-cuffed without concern and then the door was slammed behind Detective Inspector Dimmock.

"Hello, John Watson. Do you remember me?" John looked the man up and down. Of course he remembered, he assisted in 'The Blind Banker' case. As John remembered, he was Lestrade's replacement.

"Have you caught any more of those Chinese smugglers from the Black Lotus, yet?" Dimmock shook his head.

"We're not here about them though, are we? Will you please write your signature down here next to a block print of your name and your normal handwriting. I'd advise you not to fake this information, otherwise your sentence could be extended if proven guilty." Dimmock told him as he slipped a piece of paper where John could reach it. John did as he was asked, allowing Dimmock to take back the paper quickly. He then whispered to the men around him clarifying some evidence. "Where were you at 21:58 yesterday evening?"

"With Mary, my wife, and Sherlock at the cinema. We went to see the new Star Trek film. It was rather good actually, but Sherlock was getting annoyed at the actor playing John Harrison apparently, and I quote 'Letting his emotions foil his acting skills'. I thought that they could relate, but that's just me."

"Enough about the film, Doctor Watson."

"Oh yes, sorry. I seem to have gotten side-tracked. Any way, as for Molly and Irene Adler, I don't know where either of them were. Molly was probably at work still; she usually stays there later. Irene Adler I would never know because I didn't even know she was still alive. Always scheming herself into trouble, I lost track." John looked at Dimmock and waited for the next question.

"Ever been to Brighton, Doctor Watson? It's a lovely place."

"I've been once in my entire life-"

"And that was last night, was it not?"

"When I was five and visiting my mother's friend, yes. But not since, no. Mary and I were planning to go there for a day trip, but that's it." John once again looked up, seeing how he'd just twisted everyone's minds. He was enjoying being the dominant one in the room for once, it was usually Sherlock's job to be that person.

"Do you recognise any of the following names? If you do not, please shake your head. If you do, please nod and wait for us to ask for you to explain your knowing of this person. Bradley Foster." John shook his head in response. "Lieutenant Mitchell James." John's eyes widened as he nodded to the name. "What does he mean to you?"

"We served together in Afghanistan, I believe. He helped me get out of the way of fire a couple of times and then I patched him up. We were both injured at the same time, roundabout, and were both sent home on the same flight." John paused and looked at his hands that were clasped together. "After all of that time of fighting together, I ended up living 'happily' with my wife. And his wife lost her husband on a train after some person took his life away from him." He waited for the next name but it didn't come. "You may continue."

"Susan Fisher." John shook his head. "Ashleigh Murphy?" He looked up.

"Male or female? I need to know!"

"Female. Does this name mean something to you then?" Dimmock crossed his arms and sat down in the chair opposite John. With each name there either came a new link, or a further disappointment.

John nodded and began, "I recognise the name and from my memory, the pieces seem to fit. Ahsleigh and I used to date when we studied at Bart's Hospital. We were on the same course. Then when we completed it, she moved to Brighton and we split up. A couple of years later I went to Afghanistan and we lost touch. I know that her sister lives here in London though. Just so I know that it's her, did the Ashleigh you find have eyes the colour of the palest blue that the sky can turn? If so, I know that is the Ashleigh I once dated." Dimmock nodded, writing down everything John said. He then looked for a picture of her.

"Is this _your _Ashleigh?" He asked handing John the picture. John nodded and returned the picture to Dimmock's hand. "Thomas Smith." John shook his head once more. "And finally, Marie Kingston." John's head shot up to meet with Dimmock's sight. He then nodded. "Who is she?"

"Well, she's not supposed to be alive. Do you have a picture of her?" John was surprised, surely Marie Kingston had died of her tumour by now?

"Yes sure. Here you go. I mean her face is a bit mashed up, but." Dimmock handed John the picture of Marie Kingston. He couldn't tell who she was; her was truly smashed.

"Did she have a necklace in her possessions that had lots of trinkets on it? I believe that there was a lab coat, S, H, a riding crop, a mobile phone, a red cross with JW engraved on the back, a mug, a blue feather. And some others. It was a few years ago that I saw her last, but it was pretty full then." Dimmock handed John a picture of the necklace found on the body, it was her. "She should have been dead a couple of years ago." The men al looked at him suspiciously. "She had a brain tumour, only two years left to live the last time that Sherlock and I met her. But now she's dead on a train from last night. Bit odd."

"How did you know her, though? You've told us that she should be dead, but how do you know her?" One of the men behind Dimmock asked.

"I was living at 221B Baker Street at the time with Sherlock Holmes. Our land lady, Mrs Hudson, had a granddaughter named Scarlett Hines. She 'died' from a brain tumour, but mysteriously was still alive. We were at her funeral when we met Irene Adler, Jim Moriarty and Marie Kingston. Sherlock went to talk to Marie and found out it was Scarlett still alive in disguise. Adler and Moriarty shot me, then poisoned Sherlock. But Marie, well Scarlett, swapped the poison making sure it wasn't fatal. Then she left and threatened to get revenge on Sherlock for 'splitting up' with her." John had gone into a Sherlock talking mode, so it was hard for them men in the room to keep up. "Here she is now, although she's supposed to have died from her tumour a couple of years back."

"Thank you for that information." Dimmock finished writing everything down and then asked, "Have you ever seen this before?" He handed John a photo of his 'supposed' signature.

"Is this supposed to be mine? Because it's not mine, and _never_ has been. Where's the rest of your evidence against me, then?" Dimmock looked at John's signature and the one that he handed him in the photograph. They had checked the signature John gave and it came out clear. "They are not the same. Neither is the handwriting and believe me, I would not be able to write that stylistically is this is my handwriting. It's too good for it to be my second writing style, that's all I'm saying. Also, whoever wrote this is left handed. I am not." John looked at every one of the men in the room, in turn. They all looked at each other trying to figure out what had just happened. "Can I go?" John sat smiling in his chair, arms folded and continuing to look at the men. The door then opened allowing John to leave. "Thank you." He said as he left the room. Now he wanted to find out who had done this and why they had, but he was happy with what he had said in the room.

When John reached reception to collect his stuff, Mary ran forward almost jumping upon him. He hugged her back smiling into her hair. "I don't understand, what did they want from you?" John pulled back so Mary could see him clearly.

"They've accused myself, Sherlock, Molly Hooper and Irene Adler of murdering those six people on the train. All of our 'signatures' were found written in blood with our names in similar writing as each of the others, written underneath on pieces of card that hung around their necks." John collected his phone and keys making sure that the police hadn't hacked it. "Similar handwriting, Mary. They must have all been done by the same person trying to cover it up with slightly different writing styles. I know each of our styles and none of them, not even Irene's, match with the ones in the photo." Just before John could say any more, Sherlock's door opened with Sherlock being dragged out of it. His eyes were already black and he had a lot of obvious pain on his body. "Excuse me, but he needs treatment." John walked forward towards his friend as he stood against the wall.

"There's no need, John. I heard that you cleared all of our names in a few sentences, both out here and in your room." Sherlock attempted to smile but he couldn't manage it. He spat some blood instead and wiped the blood that was dripping from his nose. "Sally wasn't having any of what I was saying. She got every officer in there to beat me until I admitted it. Either that, or I 'died',_ again_."

"What about Lestrade?"

"What about him?" Sherlock snapped, taking his keys and phone from a lady that stood beside John. He then snatched his coat and scarf out of her hand and told her, "I hope your date goes well tonight, although. He is with someone else, so it's bit pointless what you're doing." The woman looked at him and then ran away, Sherlock's expression not changing like it usually would.

"He set me up and then he just stood there watching you taking a pounding." John turned Sherlock around.

"Oh no, John. He set you up and then punched me the most out of all the men." Sherlock left the building, not waiting for anyone. "We have to be back tomorrow to get our case. I'll see you here at 9, shall I?" Sherlock pulled his coat and scarf around himself and hailed down a taxi, hopping in before it'd even stopped.

"Case?" John mumbled to himself and then turned back towards the cells to see Irene Adler and Molly walking out on their own. Molly ran towards John and threw herself into him, hugging tightly. "What's this for?" John asked her politely, but with a confused tone.

"You cleared our names." Molly beamed at him. "And for that I'm grateful."

"You're welcome. It was rather simple really, we're all right handed, but that was written in-I'm sorry I'm starting to sound like Sherlock. I just need to go and see Lestrade." John pushed Molly away from him and ran for Lestrade's office.

"I'm actually on my lunch break, John. Can it wait?"Lestarde was surprised when John pinned him in his chair, there was so many things that John wanted to say but couldn't.

So he settled with, "No. You set me up, accused me of killing people and then you beat Sherlock up. And now _I _have a lead, so you're going to listen to me." He let Lestrade swing back to his normal position of the chair. "The killer is left handed. Neither me nor the others are left handed. None of us. Whoever the killer is, they didn't risk their non-writing hand so they used their own hand. Their left." John waved his left hand in the air. "Look. You can see the slight smudging as they move their hand across. It's only slight, but they wrote it out in pencil first to make sure the signatures were correctly done." Lestrade listened, and he listened well. He wasn't used to this from John; it was a new experience.

"Of course. But the signatures weren't correct. We've checked each one that you've all provided and _they _check out as yours. Why would you change it just for this? It doesn't make sense!" John smiled at him and pointed.

"Exactly. All the writing is similar, too similar to be different. Therefore it's not our writing and our signatures would never match our signatures with that writing. Figure that one out." John was smiling away at Lestrade, happy that he could actually do what Sherlock does, _sometimes_. Even if it was for a few little details.

"Very good, John. Now all we need to find is everything of importance. And for that we need the crime scene." Sherlock had suddenly turned up at the door, just like he always does, and put his thoughts into the conversation. They were not exactly wanted because both John and Lestrade were managing fine, but Sherlock didn't care. "What? After hours of sitting in an empty cell, you don't think that _I _already figured that out?" Sherlock looked the two other men up and down, they each looked suspicious of him.

"I don't think you did, you hadn't seen the pictures when we were in the cell." John folded his arms, had Sherlock actually seen them and then lied to John to make himself look more impressive?

"I didn't have to see the pictures, only observe the possibilities before I saw them. Does that make sense to you?" John rolled his eyes and walked out of the room. "What did I say?"

"I'll see you tomorrow, Greg." John met Mary in the foyer and they both walked out of the building into their car. He obviously didn't want to think about today very much so wanted to go home and clear his mind before the real 'fun' started tomorrow.

Sherlock turned back to Lestrade and asked, "So you're still calling yourself '_Greg'_? What a stupid name." Sherlock left the room.

"That is my name-Oh. Never mind." Lestrade shouted after him, it wouldn't make any difference. Sherlock wouldn't listen to him any way.

As Sherlock left the building he was pushed against the wall outside by a small, slick hand. He rolled his eyes and pushed the person off him. "Don't you have something better to do than bother me with your little games?" Sherlock snapped.

"Well, no. You're the most interesting person around, and Molly wasn't that fun in the cell. So, I'm bored. Let's have dinner." Irene stood glaring at him, Sherlock rose an eyebrow at her. "I heard that it was John Watson that got us all out, not you. No that surprises me, is it true?" Sherlock looked her up and down.

"Yes, look at me. Do I look like I talked any sense to them in that room? This is how my brother treated Moriarty when he had him captive, I believe." Since this morning, Sherlock's expression remained the same as it was. Blank and cold. He didn't care about anything or anyone, that's why he attacked John.

"How are the nightmares going? You're having them aren't you. Is it the drugs? Cigarettes? John not always being by your side to wipe your ass?" Sherlock grabbed Irene around the neck and pushed her into the wall, making sure that he pressed tightly. "If you kill me; Molly Hooper will die."

"Oh _really_?"

"Yes." Irene whispered. "I crushed one of these pills into her drink, she swallowed a pill full of explosives. If I flick this switch then-"

"Kaboom. I see." Sherlock pulled away, dropping Irene onto the ground. His face still didn't change, something was definitely wrong. "So you blackmail me, yet again. Old. Boring. _Predictable._" Sherlock grabbed the knife from Irene's pocket without her knowing, getting in as close as he could and whispering, "You. _Repel. _Me." He then turned away from her, but she wasn't having any of it. She turned him back to face her, slapped him and then pulled him in to kiss him. Sherlock squirmed in her grasp letting the knife drop from his hand.

"Thank you." Irene whispered against his lips before walking away and picking the knife up. "See you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Oh, Lestrade asked yourself and Molly to help in our enquiries and investigations. Brilliant..." Sherlock stormed past Irene, making sure that he knocked her in the process. "Oh I'm sorry. I'm Sherlock Holmes the clever detective with a funny hat." He then smiled sarcastically at her and hailed down a taxi. Irene pulled his arm.

"Why _did _you save me?"

"It seemed like the '_kind' _thing to do at the time." Sherlock smiled once again sarcastically. "Laters!" He called to her getting into the cab. Irene was left shocked and open mouthed on the pavement. He remembered what she had said to him all those years ago, and he still chose to ignore her. Of course he did. How typical of him. Sherlock Holmes.

"Sherlock. Holmes." Irene whispered to herself.

_**I apologise that it's so long, but when I start writing I just can't stop. If you have any ideas of how you would like the next chapter, which is on the train, to go then please leave me some ideas. I'll try and update next weekend. Thank you for reading. **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hello again. Thanks for reading. Before I let you read the next chapter I just want to warn you that this whole chapter probably doesn't make sense... You see a different side to Molly. A different side to John. And a, well to me any way, **_**scary _side to Sherlock. But we also see what's been troubling him for the first time and who's involved. Any way, I hope that you enjoy this next chapter. _**

**_All rights go to SACD and the BBC._**

_**Chapter 2**_

_**The Train**_

"Come on, John. You're being way too slow with your walking." Sherlock was waiting for John outside Scotland Yard since 08:45 exactly. He managed to refrain himself from arriving any earlier in case he appeared to look too excited, and he knew inside him that it wouldn't be great for him if he looked like that. "It's 09:23. It's taken you 31 minutes and 25 seconds longer to get here than it should have done, and I know that you left at 08:35. So, where have you been?" John was now by his friend's side and looking up at him with the same look he always gave Sherlock when he managed to know how long ago he'd left.

"I dropped Mary off at Bart's because, believe it or not, she has a job there. Or do you not remember information like that?" Sherlock looked at his phone and started to scroll to one particular text; it was from Mycroft:

_'John is at Baker Street delivering a parcel to Mrs Hudson. He'll be late, Sherlock. And there's no sign of Mary either. Must be on the late shift still. -MH'_

"Mycroft, of course."

"Mary wasn't even home this morning, she was late home from a night shift." John sighed, rolling his eyes at how his friend still kept tabs on when and where he was at every specific point each day. "You should really think twice before lying to me, John. I have people everywhere. Even now, after all of the men are gone, I still worry about you, _constantly." _John laughed, not meaning to have let it out. "_What_?" Sherlock placed his hand inside his pocket to reach for the tazor he had pick pocketed off of an officer when she came out for a cigarette. She had asked Sherlock whether he had a lighter, he gave her his and managed to grab her tazor in the process.

"Oh nothing." Sherlock raised his eyebrow. "Just for a moment there, I thought I was talking to Mycroft." John once again laughed and then walked into Scotland Yard. Inside both Molly and Irene were waiting for the two men, neither looking particularly happy about being here again after yesterday's events. "Good morning Molly. Have you recovered from yesterday's, '_adventure'_?" Molly giggled slightly.

"Hello, no I haven't. It's shocked me a lot how someone could frame us all like that and just walk away without a single scratch on their reputation. It just seems a bit unfair, you know." Molly was her usual smiling self as soon as Sherlock walked into the same room as her, and today was no exception. "Hello Sherlock."

"Why is it that we're all on a case together and everyone feels the need to say hello to each other? You all know each other, even if it was just because you shared a cell for a few hours. Or someone shot you." Sherlock walked past the group with a sarcastic smile and towards the desk. "Let Lestrade know we're here. Thank you." He smiled sarcastically at the receptionist.

"Sherlock means, 'Hello. Good to see you all again. Although one of you tried to kill both me and John so, not really you. Another helped me survive, so it's great to see you again. And lastly, my 'best friend', thanks for coming after I tried to kill you yesterday'." Molly and Irene looked at each other.

"You expect me to try and get along with this frail excuse of a woman? She's a pathologist who practically throws herself at Sherlock so that he will notice her. And has he? _No_." Irene said to both Molly and John. "Oh, and guess what. I kissed him last night. How does that feel?"

"Okay, that's enough. We don't want this to get-"

"At least I'm not a whore!"

"Too personal. Fine," John sighed. "let it out of your systems, I suppose."

Irene glared at Molly. "_Excuse_ me?"

"You heard me. You're a whore and you can't deny it!" Molly shouted back at her. "Oh, I may '_throw' _myself at him, but at least I helped to save his life. What did you do? Called him a virgin, blackmailed him, proved that love isn't good for him and then he saved _your _life." Irene's eyes widened as she sighed. "Then you went and shot poor John here. I don't think that's even something to argue with." Molly stormed away with John following her. Irene was left speechless in the reception area waiting for John to return, but he didn't. She eventually followed after collecting her mind and reputation up from the floor around her.

"Are you okay, Molly? That was a _bit_ of an outburst!" John wasn't trying to defend Irene at all, considering that she tried to kill him a few years before, but he didn't want there to be unnecessary ice between any of them during this case.

"I know John. I've just been so fed up lately and little Miss '_Perfect' _over there... She just makes my blood boil." Molly had her head in her hands on the desk; in all honesty to herself she couldn't believe what she had just shouted. "I mean, what does she know about Sherlock that I don't. I mean-erm." John smiled at her making sure that she knew he didn't care what she said about his friend. "I'm sorry." Molly smiled back as John pulled her into hug her.

"Oh great, now everyone is hugging each other. Fantastic." Sherlock rolled his eyes as he walked away towards Lestrade who had made himself known to Sherlock by accidentally slamming a door open. His cheeks had turned a slight pink colour, conclusion. He was embarrassed by what he had just done. "Lestrade." He gave his hand to him, which was unusual but Lestrade accepted.

"Is everyone here? You and John still need to question Molly and Irene Adler!" Lestrade told him knowing that they would be the only two that would actually get close to Irene Adler. "I've put you with Adler and John with Molly, is that okay for you?"

Sherlock huffed at the placement, but John would never go into the same room with Irene Adler alone after what he tried to do to him at Scarlett's funeral. He sighed and then replied, "Of course you're putting me with the harder one to crack. We _both _survived a mysterious death and now you're putting me in the same room as her because we're practically the same. How _predictable _of you." Sherlock almost shouted at Lestrade, but he managed to hold it back at a small yell on certain words instead.

"No, I just think that you would both be more comfortable in this _arrangement._"

"I think it's a good arrangement. Leave the robots to squabble between themselves, while us _human beings _actually talk about something relevant and get down to the truth. Seems, _logical _if you ask me." John had appeared by both of the men with the two women standing behind him. Both Molly and Irene half smirked at what John said to the men trying not to let the laughter leave their mouths.

"Yes, well nobody asked _you, _did they?" Sherlock snapped back. There was pure anger from inside his eyes as he stepped forward to shout at John. "Most people _don't _ask you for your opinion. But you always _have _to voice it, don't you. That's your problem, John. You don't think about what's coming out of your mouth!" Sherlock shouted at John, watching as his friend's face turned from a smile to disgust in a matter of seconds. Molly looked at Sherlock with the worst look, it was worse than John's by a few hundred miles. She grabbed John's arm and started to walk him away before something started in the foyer.

"Let's go John, you're asking me some questions, remember?" Molly looked back at Sherlock as she walked John away. He was hurt and she could feel it from the way his arms flinched every few seconds. "It's okay." She told him as she turned back to the door they were approaching. John didn't talk though, he didn't want to talk about it.

Lestrade turned to Sherlock and snapped, "What was that all about?" Sherlock just hummed at Lestrade's question; it was obvious to the two others around him that he didn't care for anyone any more. Not even John? "Sherlock! John is your-Let's go Irene." Lestrade placed his hand cautiously on Irene's shoulder leading her into a different room. Sherlock was left alone in the corridor; left to think about his 'actions' and what he had just done.

"Sorry about this Molly, I don't think you deserve to be questioned at all considering our names are cleared. But Sherlock got a big punch up from it and I gave lots of information, so they might need some more to make up for Sherlock's lack of cooperation." John sat opposite Molly and put his hands together on the table. Molly giggled and smiled at John. She was fine with this considering Sherlock had been so mean to John. She would do this if it helped to solve the case.

"Oh, it's fine. It's the least I can do to help. How many questions are there?" John looked at the paper that was on the table and counted.

"I'll leave out the pictures of our 'signatures' because I've already got rid of that part by noticing the left handed style of the killer. So, where were you at 21:58 Tuesday evening?"

"At Bart's Morgue. There was a new body in and Sherlock always asks for tattoo categorisations on bodies, so I charted them for him. I was there until eleven, as I remember. I don't really know, I was tired by then." John sat writing down what Molly told him as she spoke, just like Dimmock had done the day before. When he finished he looked up at the woman sitting opposite him.

"Now I need you to look at these pictures and names and see whether you know any of these people that were murdered." John handed the pictures in order. "Please look at the first one. This man is-"

"Bradley Cooper." Molly interrupted, so she knew him then.

"Yes, it is. How do you know him?" John was slightly surprised by Molly knowing the first name on the list, his faced showed that completely.

"I-I went to school with him. We practically grew up together if I'm honest." Molly stopped and cleared her throat before continuing. "He was very nice in school until we went into High School and he felt the need to make me look like an idiot every chance he got. It was very embarrassing at those moments, but I believe him to have become a small business owner. And look where I am. Doing autopsies on dead bodies." She chuckled slightly. "Oh, sorry."

"He doesn't sound very nice, well. When he was alive he didn't sound like a great person." John tried to comfort her about his death slightly by saying this. "Sorry."

"It's okay John. How was he-you know." Molly didn't want to say the words as they should have been said because in terms of someone she knew, it didn't sound right in her mouth.

"They believe that it was a poison at first which caused them to be paralysed. And then the killer dragged each and every one of them into the toilet of their carriage, saying that they were the victim's friend and they were 'sick'. They were true in that respect." John paused and looked as Molly didn't seem to move from her position. "The killer then used different methods of killing which involved a series of knives or hammers which they kept in a rucksack or handbag, depending on the gender, and made sure that every death was slow and that they could feel every ounce of pain." John's voice had started to sound as though he was enjoying the thought of what he was describing, this had caused Molly to move back from the table and sit awkwardly facing him. "Sorry I-I don't know what came over me." Molly's eyelids fluttered at the sight of John a few times, John left the room quickly. What was he doing?

"Christ-" Molly whispered to herself as she brought her knees up to her chest. She started to rock backwards and forwards slightly in the chair as a source of comfort, as she hugged her legs as tightly as she could to herself. She had tried to keep herself composed when John was in the room but now that he had gone to take a breather she let her tears fall. In a room all alone Molly Hooper sat on a chair, curled into a tight ball, sobbing into her own legs. She stopped abruptly to look at her phone, it had vibrated in her pocket seven times in the last minute. Someone obviously wanted her attention.

'_I would like you to reply to John on my behalf. It seems more appropriate if you do it instead of me. -SH'_

_'Have you don't think not because I can still hear you crying. Did you know that crying is bad for everyone around you, especially for someone called Irene Adler. -IA on SH' phone. :)'_

_'Molly, I suggest you stop crying. It doesn't look good and it makes you look very weak. -SH'_

Molly didn't want to read any more of Sherlock's words. Of course she didn't know whether it was Sherlock considering Irene had his phone, but it seemed like the things he would say to her. Did he not care that she had helped him survive his fall all those years ago. No. He obviously didn't want to remember that Molly Hooper, the pathologist who managed to put up with all the shit that he threw at her, helped him-Sherlock Holmes- survive something that he should have died from. "Next time I won't be there." Molly managed to mumble to herself. The crying had started again due to Sherlock's words against her and this time it wouldn't stop. She decided that the best way forward for her was to leave Scotland Yard and Sherlock to do their work. Molly had her own work to attend to after all and neither Irene Adler nor Sherlock Holmes would get in the way of that. After a few minutes contemplating her choice, and with John still calming himself down, Molly picked up her stuff and made her way out of the room to the entrance. She saw Sherlock start to approach her in the corner of her eye and mumbled to herself, "_Fuck off!" _Sherlock heard her 'mumbling' but still grabbed her wrist to stop her from leaving so soon. When she felt the pressure she jerked her hand away immediately. "Go _away, _Sherlock. I don't want to deal with you crap right now." Sherlock looked at her with the same sarcastic expression he had been using for the last half an hour in order to get Irene off of him for two seconds. In response, Molly simply rolled her eyes and started to walk off again. Once more Sherlock grabbed her wrist and pulled her back but this time he made sure that it hurt. "Ow. You're hurting me!" Molly turned back to see a new look in his eyes, a look that she had never seen before but John had warned her about. "Sherlock-" She was still trying to fight her way out, turning and pulling, just trying to release her.

"Molly. He-Help me..." Molly turned to look at the man who still held her tightly, his eyes fluttered shut changing him back to the person he was before. She couldn't believe what she'd just seen, even though it was a quick sentence that probably meant nothing. "You can't leave yet." He let her hand fall back to her side, she too would have serious bruising there later on in the day, just like John's.

"And _why _not, Sherlock? You have been sending me horrible text messages and you _still _want me here to help you." Sherlock's eyes squinted at Molly, he hadn't sent any texts to her. His hands suddenly started to rummage through every pocket that he had both on his coat and his blazer; leaving Molly baffled by what he was trying to do. To both her and everyone around them, Sherlock looked as though he was covered in deadly ants. This was his attempt at getting rid of them. " What are you doing?" He continued to look for a few more seconds and then stopped just as quickly as he had started.

"My phone." Sherlock turned away from Molly and looked art Irene who was standing in the middle of the reception foyer area, one hand was placed firmly on her hip and the other held tightly onto a phone as she waved it slightly through the air. The free hand then moved itself to the side of Irene's head and made a very sarcastic wave at the tow of them, as if to say 'I'm messing with the pair of you', but that wasn't what Irene was thinking at all. Sherlock's head turned back to Molly's, he sighed rolling his eyes and then started to walk towards Irene. Her smile represented everything that she was thinking, but Sherlock chose to ignore that detail. It showed him everything that he didn't want to see in her behaviour. She too walked forward to meet Sherlock in the middle, he hips swaying as she walked. "Oh, seduction. Don't try that one on me." Sherlock whispered to no one in particular. When they met; Sherlock grabbed for the phone with little success. Her hand simply dropped it into the other to mess Sherlock around. Once more Sherlock reached for the tazor in his pocket, but this time he made sure that it left it's holding place. "Are you sure that you want to play this game?" Sherlock asked her clutching even tighter onto the object in his hand. The tazor moved closer to Irene's body, but not without her noticing. Slowly she handed Sherlock back his phone, but it wasn't for her sake. It was for his; imprisoned for both pickpocketing and tazoring without a license under the Force. "Wise decision." He snatched the phone off her just as Lestrade arrived by their sides. Sherlock didn't even notice his presence because he was too busy scrolling through the texts that Irene had sent to Molly, but his voice still managed to slur some words through. Eventually, the thing that stopped Sherlock from his attention on his phone was Molly's voice.

"It _was _Irene. I'm sorry, I didn't mean- Oh, never mind." Molly's cheeks blushed slightly as she placed her fingers on the bridge of her nose, once again Molly had made a fool of herself. "Oh, hello John." Her eyes looked to the man that was smaller than the other two. He had managed to sneak into the group without anyone knowing.

"Do you want to finish, I'm sorry about that." John asked her holding out his hand towards her. He could see in her eyes that she had been crying, a lot, and she still clutched her aching wrist. Molly took his hand and allowed him to lead her away. "I should see to you about that." Molly pulled her arm away and tried to keep it as close to her body but as far away from John as she could. "Did Sher-"

"John. I don't want to talk about it. It's not important, and this case is."

"I'll just ask Mycroft for the CCTV if you don't tell me-"

"Okay." Molly whispered. "Sherlock grabbed me. But it was only to stop me from leaving the building. Irene stole his phone and sent me these texts and they were, I don't think hurtful is the right word to use." She made the sound of a half chuckle. "I believed them." She held out her wrist to John. "Is it bad?" John pulled back Molly's sleeve to reveal a cluster of already blue and black bruises on her wrist. Molly, on the other hand, didn't want to look at what damage had been done.

"Molly, don't let him make you feel like a waste of space because you're original and do you know what? You can't be replaced." Molly rolled her eyes at John.

"Are you quoting Katy Perry?"

"Maybe" John let Molly's wrist go and they both burst into laughter. "I blame Mary." He joked allowing Molly to return into the room first. After she had sat down, John turned back to see Sherlock standing at the end of the corridor. Sherlock nodded alerting John that his phone was about to vibrate.

'_Tell her I'm sorry, will you. I don't think she'll listen to me in person. How bad is it? -SH'_

John looked up from his phone to see that Sherlock had vanished again, probably gone to kill Irene over the whole situation. Walking back into the room and sitting down he typed back:

'_I don't think she'll appreciate that. Why don't you become a man and actually face up to the things that you have do do as a human being. If you had twisted hard enough, you could have broken her wrist. Better luck next time. -_- You really hurt her Sherlock, I'm surprised if she ever forgives you again. -JW'_

John looked up at Molly who was still clutching her wrist. "Now we match." John pulled back his sleeve to reveal the blue and black bruises that had formed even darker and deeper on his own wrist. Molly let out a small gasp, she didn't mean to but John had exactly the same marks on his arm from the day before. "Sherlock's new mark, I believe."

"Wha-What happened?" Molly leant forward to place her hand on John's wrist. It still hurt him, but not as much as Molly's was still currently hurting her.

"I placed my hand on his forehead. It seems that he doesn't like people checking his temperature." Molly chuckled slightly, what was wrong with Sherlock at the moment? "Shall we continue?" She nodded so John started again with the questions.

Lestrade stared at Sherlock with disappointment. "What was _that _about?" He asked noticing that Sherlock's hand was limp by his side. It hurt from the tight grip that he had over Molly's wrist, but he wouldn't tell anyone. "Sherlock?" He wouldn't listen. His head was spinning too fast to even notice what was going on around him. Without a warning, a hand slapped him round the face bringing him back into the present World. It was Irene.

"Do you mind?" Sherlock snapped back grabbing Irene by the wrist. "Did you manage to cut yourself?" Her eyes widened, Sherlock really did remember everything that she had said to him all those years ago. "Oh, no. You did not. _Sorry." _He flung Irene's hand back at her.

"Sherlock?"

"Lestrade, I'd advise you to do your own conduction with this, _woman, _because I have no further interest in being within an inch of her. Good day." Sherlock pushed past Irene making sure she almost fell into Lestrade. He then walked to the corridor that both John and Molly were on. He watched as Molly entered the room and sent a quick text to John. He watched as John turned back out and saw him, nodding his head towards him. John then looked at his phone, so he used this opportunity as an escape time. He ran to Lestrade's office, picked the lock, threw his coat over the chair and then sat down with his feet on the desk. "Too easy." Sherlock mumbled to himself knowing that nobody else would be able to hear him. He then heard his phone make its text alert sound, it was John's reply. In response Sherlock rolled his eyes and typed a quick reply.

'_It was just the same amount of pressure as I applied to you, John. You forgave me, did you not? -SH'_

He had to wait a long time for the reply. '_He's probably talking to Molly about the case a lot' _Sherlock presumed. But when the reply did arrive, it hurt his eyes like nothing ever has before.

'_Sherlock Holmes. From this moment forward you and I are no longer friends. Our relationship is strictly professional now because I can't face knowing that I'm friends with someone like you. I know that I've given you lots of attempts at being a gracious and caring human being, and since the beginning of our friendship I have let your arrogance pass. But now, you're acting too far out of the ordinary. Threatening to kill me. Hurting Molly both mentally and physically. When are you going to stop? I knew that our friendship wouldn't be the same when you appeared to me again, but I didn't expect this. I'm sorry, just don't go hurting anyone else. Irene Adler I'm fine with, but I don't want to see you behind bars, no matter how much I hate you. I hope you understand why I'm saying this to you. _

_Goodbye Sherlock._

_Your hurt and distant assistant,_

_Doctor John Watson.'_

Sherlock stared at the phone for a few minutes, digesting the information as he continued to read it over and over. At this point he couldn't hold back the tears that were in his eyes. He let them fall from his eyes and down his cheeks onto the screen. This made the test hard to read causing Sherlock to get angry. He tightened his grip on the phone, just like he'd done to both John and Molly's wrists. After a few seconds of crushing the screen, Sherlock's phone had been thrown against a wall and was now smashed even more than what his hands had managed to do. He was now curled up in the corner of the room clutching his knees to himself. For the first time in the last two days, Sherlock showed a different emotion. He sobbed into his legs making sure that he didn't make too much noise while he let out the pain he felt. Why was he feeling like this? "_John..._" Sherlock whispered into his hands as he wiped the tears away. With one more sudden motion towards his phone in order to destroy it completely, Sherlock stopped and heard his message tone release itself one more time. He picked the phone up as carefully as he could, in order not to break it any more. The message that was left on his phone read, or as far as Sherlock could deduce, like this:

'_Sherlock Holmes. I am disappointed in your actions of emotions. Sort yourself out or, I'm afraid, that I'll have to take you back into rehab. How long has it been since you slept? -MH'_

"_Perfect_. Piss off, Mycroft." Sherlock mumbled to himself before throwing his phone at the camera that allowed Mycroft to see everything. He hadn't told anyone before, but Sherlock had been in rehab for two years-refusing to take treatment- for his drug addiction. He had started because he had lost his only friend, before John, that he had ever had in his life. An emotional trigger had started his addiction to cocaine all those years ago, which led Mycroft to keep him in rehab. "Two. Years." During his stay, Sherlock refused treatment of his addiction constantly. Mycroft and the workers refused to let him leave until he fulfilled everything that he needed to so that he could be released. That took two years, Sherlock eventually giving in so that he could finally get a job linking with Scotland Yard.

The memories of rehab burned Sherlock's mind. He wish that he could delete them like they were nothing of importance, but his Mind Palace wouldn't allow him to let them go. He was stuck with the memories of being strapped down and tortured with the words of the doctors. After remembering and slamming his fist against the wall until blood dripped from each knuckle, Sherlock curled up into a ball and allowed himself to sleep.

_* "I'll burn you. I'll burn the _heart _out of you." Jim Moriarty looked at Sherlock, his hands in his pockets. Sherlock's hands still remained tightly on the gun that still pointed in the direction of the middle of Moriarty's eyes. Moriarty then walked towards John, grabbing him around the neck. This wasn't how it went?! Pulling a knife from inside his suit, Moriarty said to Sherlock. "How would you feel if precious little Johnny boy here died by my hand. Right here. Right now." However, Sherlock didn't get a chance to answer. John's blood started to pour from his throat all down the coat, all over the bomb and all over Jim Moriarty's hands. Sherlock tried to move forward but one of the rifles sent a warning shot towards his leg._

"_No! This isn't how it's supposed to go... You leave!" Moriarty laughed harder and harder as Sherlock was forced to watch John's life leave him. "_Please_." Sherlock dropped the gun onto the ground, which was followed by him also dropping. _

"_Oh it's not over yet, Sherlock." Moriarty made a signal with his hand, meaning that two men entered the pool with them. One carried an axe. He walked forward to John and started to chop. Sherlock tried to push himself forward towards his friend, but the other man stood holding him back. _

"_JOHN!" Sherlock shouted at the top of his lungs. "Stop this, please! This never happened" He shut his eyes for a moment to stop himself from seeing his friend being torn apart by the axe, only to open them and find that he was on top of Bart's Hospital in the face-down with Moriarty. He was standing on the edge watching as the World turned, his mind trying to find a way out of this. A way. Any way. He then broke into laughter. Moriarty stopped and turned back to him as he continued to laugh on the edge of his death._

"_What?" Sherlock walked towards Moriarty, as Moriarty too walked towards Sherlock. "Oh look, there's John." Sherlock jerked his head to look at John, he'd arrived earlier than he should have done. "If he enters the building, he _will _be killed, Sherlock. Unless you jump." Sherlock didn't waste a second, he knew that this wasn't how it truly went but he'd do anything to stop John from dying. He ran for the edge throwing himself off. As he approached the bottom he could see John's face watching as he hit the ground. Hard. _

"_John..." Sherlock managed to mumble before he heard a gun shot. John fell to the ground, clutching his chest. There was blood seeping through his hand. He'd been shot. Suddenly, the light started to dim, someone was standing over him, the shadow stopping the light._

"_Do you _really _think I'm _that _stupid, Sherlock? Miss Hooper helping you, is she? Shame." Moriarty turned Sherlock over so that he could see him. "I'm sorry, Sherlock, but John is dead. You can't die and neither will I. You'll have to live on with the pain." He started to walk away before turning back to Sherlock, who was almost in tears, and saying, "Oh. Mrs Hudson, Greg Lestrade and Molly Hooper send their love. Unfortunately for them, that was their last breath." His smile was evil, making sure that it imprinted in Sherlock's mind. He walked away leaving Sherlock and John on the ground. John, himself, had seemed to move closer to Sherlock, he was now laying right beside him. _

"_Please! _STOP THIS!_" Sherlock shouted into his friend's ear, but with no response. John was dead. Mrs Hudson was dead. Lestrade was dead. Molly was dead. To Sherlock there was no point in living any more. He saw John's gun in his pocket and reached for it. Putting the barrel into his mouth, he let out one last sigh and fired the gun... *_

"_John_!" Sherlock awoke from his nightmare thrown half way across the room from where he was before. He was sweating uncontrollably, his hair wet from where it had been pressed against his soaking forehead. He tried to wipe away as much of the sweat as he could as he stood up. His eyes met with his elder brother's, Mycroft had still been watching him.

"Was that your first three minutes of sleep in the last two and a half weeks, Sherlock?" Mycroft scowled at his brother as Sherlock turned away from him. "You didn't reply to my text." He said to him as he went to pick up Sherlock's phone from the floor. "It still works, you could have replied." Sherlock rolled his eyes at his brother's attitude, he tied his scarf around his neck and placed his coat on his shoulders.

"What are you doing here, Mycroft? You never come to talk to me in person, especially when I make _quite clear _that I prefer to-"

"Text, yes I know. You've got three new messages. Everyone is looking for you, everyone except John-"

"Piss off, Mycroft." Sherlock yelled at him before snatching the phone out of his hands and strolling back to the reception area. All four of the others in the group looked at Sherlock weirdly. His hair was still wet with sweat and he was clearly suffering from no sleep. Bags under his eyes managed not to appear before, but now that they had, Sherlock couldn't get away from them. "What are you all staring at?" He asked them, unconscious to the fact that his eyes were still red from were he'd been crying. John shuffled slightly, noticing the redness in his eyes, he knew that it could only have been one thing that made him cry. John rejecting him as his friend from this day forward. When the group started to walk for the entrance, John tried to pull Sherlock aside so that he could talk to him. Sherlock, on the other hand, didn't want to talk about it, so he shrugged John's hand off of his shoulder and continued to walk towards the cars.

"Are you going to take a taxi, or do you want to come in the car?" Lestrade asked them all when they made it to the police car that waited outside for them. Molly didn't answer verbally, she pulled the back door nearest to her open and stepped into the car, making sure she slammed the door behind her.

"I'll be safer with you Detective Inspector." Irene Adler spoke as she too stepped into the car. She knew that a London taxi wouldn't be the best mode of transport for her to use, so she opted for the safest option. John turned his head to Sherlock to wait for his answer, but he was no longer standing with the group. He saw him get into a taxi down the street. John sighed and got into the front of the car with Lestrade, what had he done to Sherlock now. The car sped away from Scotland Yard, Sherlock's taxi following.

"So, _this _is where the first body was found?" John asked as they made their way into the first toilet on the train. He had ignored everyone of Sherlock's comments as they arrived into the train. But now he was expecting one worse than all the others.

"John. If you're not going to say _anything _useful, I suggest that you either close your mouth so that the rest of us don't have to put up with your bullshit, or you leave" Sherlock paused and looked at everyone around him. "I suggest the latter." Every single pair of eyes where on him and opened wide. John looked Sherlock up and down, before turning from the group and leaving the carriage.

"John." Lestrade tried to grab for his arm in order to stop him from leaving, however John just brushed him away. While the other three watched him leave, Sherlock continued looking around the toilet. John wouldn't distract him from his work.

"I need some air." John sounded truly angry at Sherlock, how could he say something like that? He could obviously turn any friendship that they had off in order to fulfil what John had sent him the day before. "_God_." John mumbled to himself as he continued to walk down the platform.

"Can you hear crying?" Molly asked Sherlock as she walked down the carriage slightly to inspect the noise.

"It's probably just _John._" Irene replied to Molly, she too could hear the crying. It wasn't adult crying, it was much louder and much more hungry and alone.

"No. It's, well it sounds like a baby." Molly started to run for the next carriage with Lestrade swiftly. Irene and Sherlock both rolled their eyes, but then followed too. Lestrade dialled a number on his mobile and started to phone someone.

"John, we need you back on the train, right _now_!" Lestrade practically shouted down the phone. He knew that John wouldn't be easy to persuade, so he told John the truth. "We've found a baby."

**_There you go. Let me know what you want the baby to be and called. I have a few ideas because I'm going to have 'it' talking, so. Thank you for reading and I hope that you enjoyed that twist. Until next weekend. :)_**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hello once again. Here's the next chapter. I'm not actually happy with this at all. I don't think it makes sense. I hope you enjoy. **_

**Chapter 3**

**Chloe Kingston**

"Where-Where is it?" John approached the group. He could see that each of their faces showed a different emotion, including Sherlock's. Molly looked almost panicked as she continued to stare at the young child that was cradled in Sherlock's arms... _Sherlock's _arms? John couldn't believe his eyes even after he squeezed them tightly shut and reopened them three or four times in a row.

"John, can you please just believe that I have experience with children. It is not entirely hard to learn these things." Sherlock didn't look up to his friend, but he could sense John's eyes rolling. "We need to get her into hospital, she's freezing." He stood from the seat on which he was perched and got off the train. He didn't wait for the others as he briskly walked out of the station and towards the ambulance. When John had caught up and looked upon the child, Sherlock asked, "Does she look familiar to you, John?"

John studied her features. Her hair was a very dark black colour and her eyes resembled those of a previous acquaintance. He could see cheek bones starting to sprout on her face and the face shape was similar to one he'd seen before. "Erm.."

"Oh, do come along, John. Who have we expected to be long dead?" Sherlock looked John up and down as he tried to think. "In fact, make that two people whom we've presumed to no longer be among us." John's eyes looked up quickly.

"Wait. What are you saying?" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Jim Moriarty is dead, isn't he?" Sherlock nodded. "Marie Kingston?"

"Or better known as-"

"Better known to us as Scarlett Hines. This is their child?" Sherlock nodded. "She did look like a female version of you, if you studied her in the right way." John didn't have to look at the taller man to know that he had just received a long and threatening roll of the eyes. "Jim Moriarty having a daughter." John laughed half heartedly and then ruffled his hands through his hair. "What are we going to do with her?" He asked.

"Well, you're going to find out her name and why her mother left her on the train before she was murdered." Sherlock told him before turning away and starting to walk back to Lestrade.

"Sherlock." John called after him. "You do realise that she's about two, right?" Sherlock only chuckled in response. He stepped onto the ambulance and placed his hand on the girl's head, her eyes opening wide as he did so. "Hey. It's okay. My name is John Watson, I'm a Doctor. You're safe with me." The girl's eyes closed slightly as she looked up. He could see a deep sea of greens and blues throughout her eyes, they were not quite as nice as Sherlock's, but they were close enough. "Can you tell me your name?"

The young child gulped and replied. "Chloe." She let out a small cough before continuing. "Chloe Kingston." John was surprised that she could actually speak at all considering her age, but then again, her parents were much like Sherlock so it was hardly surprising.

"It's okay, Chloe, do you know who your parents are?" John asked her as carefully as he could.

"My father's name is James 'Jim' Moriarty. He's a con-consulting cri-minal." Chloe's eyes dropped before she said, "He's de-dead. My mother is Marie Kingston, she die-died on the-"

"On the train." John pulled her close although, much to his surprise, she didn't cry or even let out a whimper. This was familiar. She only nodded and rested her head against the blonde's chest. "I'm pretty amazed at how much you can speak." The girl looked up with her deep green eyes. "Did your father teach you?" Chloe shook her head and tried to give a weak smile.

"I'm younger than I look. I'm not two years old, I'm three and a half." Chloe twisted her hands together and then continued, "I never got to spend any time with my parents. Sebastian Moran was my 'child minder'. My mum and dad-did bad things to people." When John looked down to the girl he could see that her eyes were full of tears. He placed his hand on her cheek and stroked it slightly.

"Your mother was a very nice woman, Chloe. I'm sure that the things that _they _did-" John paused in thought in order not to scare the girl. "didn't actually harm anyone. They were both great people." He smiled down at her.

Chloe shook her head and attempted to push John away from her. "I know that my father shot himself in order to convince your friend to jump from a building..." Her face now held a blank expression, much like Sherlock's. "My night time stories were always about this _Sherlock Holmes _and his little _pet_, John Watson." She smiled creepily at him. John could no longer see Sherlock in her expression. No, now there was a deeper _criminal_ look in her eyes.

"You look like both of them, you know. You have Moriarty's evil look and your mother's calm and gentle nature-" John paused when he felt his phone vibrate inside his pocket. He took it out and looked at the message:

_'I've gone back to Baker Street. We'll need to talk. No rush. -SH'_

John's eyes rolled. "Would you like me to go with you to the hospital, as I told you, I am in fact a doctor." Chloe's eyes dropped so that she could think about it. After a few seconds of contemplation, her head rose again and she nodded. "Can we go to hospital, please?" John called to the drivers, who knew what was infecting Chloe's body right now.

When Sherlock arrived back at the flat he collapsed immediately onto the sofa. He couldn't let himself stay awake any longer, but he didn't want what came with the thing that was so tedious as sleep. However, his body beckoned to let him have a small nap and he couldn't ignore it any longer. He fell deeply into his dreams... Or was it a nightmare?

_~ "Sherlock... Sherlock... SHERLOCK!" SMACK! Sherlock's eyes opened wide and quickly. Who was calling his name? "Remember that time you told me that 'I have always counted'?" _Molly. _No. This couldn't be Molly, could it? Sherlock spun on the spot, he couldn't see anyone._

"_Do I still count now, Sherlock?" In the corner of his eye he could see a small figure, he knew that Molly was standing beside him now. _

"_How about me, Sherlock? You jumped to save my life. How grateful am I? I've moved on, moved on from you." John. Sherlock turned to where Molly was standing and found both John and her standing together. "Put _this _in your Mind Palace you freak!" John spat the last words out as though they stung his mouth. _

"_You're right, John. He is a freak-" Now Sally Donovan had decided to appear. "Nobody wants you around any more, you freak. You're worth nothing to any one." Her voice pierced his skin with every word she spoke. _

"_Hi." That voice. It sung. "Have I burnt your heart out yet?" A shoulder was placed firmly on his shoulder and turned him to face Jim Moriarty. He was holding a set of puppets. "Molly Hooper." He threw the puppet that looked like Molly over his shoulder, it caused Molly to fall to the ground. "Mycroft Holmes. Mrs Hudson. Sally Donovan." Moriarty paused and held the last three in his hands together. "Marie Kingston." He dropped it. "John Watson." John fell to the ground alongside his puppet. "And, of course..." Moriarty walked forward and raised a match to the puppets heart. "_You!_" Sherlock screamed. ~_

It was just a dream... A horrible dream. So why was he sweating? _Elevated pulse. Pupils dilated. Heavy breathing. Conclusion. I am having a panic attack... _"Stop!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. He didn't manage to notice the man standing in the doorway.

"Sherlock, are you okay?" John rushed forward to help his friend calm down. "What happened?" For that question, John was shoved onto the ground. "Wha-What?!" Sherlock had returned to his former self. Cold. Emotionless. Stiff.

"Why can't you leave me alone, John? You would be so much safer." Sherlock stood. Wait, there was now a knife in his hand again. "Don't worry. Molly will be fine, for now." He picked John up from the floor and stabbed the knife into John's side.

"Argh!" John screamed out in pain but managed to grab his gun and smash it roughly against Sherlock's head. The detective looked vacant for a few seconds before falling to the ground. John's World was dimming, becoming a black heap of dark. Then, there was nothing...

"John? John, please!" He recognised that voice. It was a young voice. Dark but sweet at the same time. "It's me, it's Chloe. Please, John, wake up!" His eyes jerked open immediately which caused the girl to step back with a gasp.

"He-Hey..." John mumbled from the bed.

"They've arrested Sherlock, John." Chloe's mouth continued to move but there were no words leaving it. She swallowed and then the words came to her. "And my father is on his way." John's eyes widened. "Yes. He is alive, John." Her eyes dropped. "I'm so sorry."

"We-we need to get you somewhere safe!"

"Oh, I don't think _that _will be necessary, Johnny Boy!" John's eyes scanned the man from head to toe. "Oh don't worry, I only came to collect my _daughter-" _Moriarty grabbed Chloe by her wrist and dragged her to meet in front of John. "And give Sherlock a message-" John's World, once again, disappeared...

_**See you next weekend. **_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hello. Here's the next chapter... I've just re-read it and I realise that Sherlock is **_**very _OOC in this chapter. I'm sorry. _**

_**Chapter 4**_

"_**I'm sorry, Molly!"**_

"John, what is it? What's happened?"

"_It's Moriarty. He's still alive and he's just taken Chloe from right under my nose! What should I do, Sherlock? He's still alive-" _

"Yes, you've already said that, John. There's no need to repeat yourself unnecessarily."

"_Sherlock, I think we need to talk about your manners. I thought you'd changed after the- Any way. I'm going home to my wife and Molly is going to arrive at Baker Street in about twenty-"_

"Why is Molly coming over, John?"

"_You need help and I think Molly is the person-woman to help you through your nightmares-"_

"I see you've spoken with my brother. It's very wrong of you to side with _him _instead of me. In fact, I'm deeply offended. Goodnight." Sherlock ended the call. His mind was swirling from everything that he had heard from the other man down the end of the phone. The man he thought long since dead was still very much _alive_. His extremely intelligent and advanced daughter had been taken back by his own hand. But, there was something even greater to attend to in a matter of minutes. _Molly Hooper. _How could he face her after everything he's said and done to her over the past couple of days? _Ring_ The door bell rand through the flat? Had he been thinking about so little in twenty minutes? He let out a deep sigh and rolled off of the sofa.

"Sherlock? It's me, Molly. Of course you already knew that." Molly let out a deep sigh as she knew Sherlock wouldn't really want her here. "John sent me over. I've made you some muffins which I can leave out here if you wi-" The door opened abruptly.

"No. Please, come in." Sherlock stood out of the way for Molly allowing her to walk up the stairs and into the flat. Much to his surprise though, she waited for him to arrive at the top of the stairs before she entered much like he had done when John had his psychosomatic limp. _Strange_. When Molly had placed the box that she was holding down upon the table she took a place on the sofa. "Molly, as you know I-well. I haven't been myself recently. Nightmares have been the evil that has been compelling me to hurt others. Including you, and I think that you need to know that I am not one to 'spill the beans', as they say. It is rather- difficult for me to express how I feel and right now, I believe that I need to say one thing to you. Two things, in fact."

"Sherlock, what is it? Why are you being so open with me?" Molly was slightly scared at how open Sherlock was being with her. If it were anybody else then she would have hugged them and told them to stop what they were saying. But Sherlock was different to everyone else. He moved closer to her and sat on the sofa. There was still a rather big gap between them, Molly knew it was enough.

"For a while I have been so horrid to you, and I am deeply- I don't really understand how feelings can control people's minds, however I know that John has been trying to tell me something for a reasonable amount of time. I've come to terms with that now. So, I'm sorry, Molly!" Sherlock's eyes sunk to his hands that were curling together. _Sherlock Holmes, nervous are we? _

"It's fine, Sherlock. I know that you're not yourself right now. You don't have to apologise again-"

"No." Sherlock interrupted before he moved closer. "I'm sorry for what I'm about to do-" Without another word Sherlock gently placed his lips upon Molly's. Initially she was surprised and moved back slightly, but as Sherlock's soft ones started to move, she sunk into the kiss as though Sherlock's life depended on it. Neither of them made it heated, they knew that they didn't need that, they just needed to know that both of them cared for each other enough to stay. Sherlock was the first to break away, his eyelids fluttering as he looked deep into Molly's. A wide smile had formed on her lips, it abruptly stopped as she realised that Sherlock had something more to say. "What else do you need to tell me, Sherlock. Because if it's that what you just did was an experiment then-" Her rant was cut off when Sherlock once again placed his lips against hers.

"Do you really think that I'm experimenting now, Molly? The first time I kissed you all those years ago wasn't an experiment either, contradicting what I told you." Molly let out a deep sigh, she remembered that night...

_**Three and half years previously**_

_The rain was heavy and pendulous as far as Molly could see. She secretly hoped that Sherlock wasn't caught in it wherever he was. The last time she'd seen him was a few months previously and he'd only stayed to stop her fussing over his health. Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud and deep sigh from her sofa. "Are you going to stare at the rain all night, Molly." The deep baritone voice confirmed her thoughts as she turned to see the tall figure laying with his hands placed underneath his chin. _

"_N-no. Sherlock? Why are you here?" Sherlock knew that she wanted him here, although he wasn't sure whether he wanted to be here while Molly was around. _

"_I came to see you. And give you something." Sherlock stood up so fast that Molly didn't even register it. Before she knew it, he had placed his lips upon her and grabbed her waist. She swung her arms around his neck and tugged at his thick curls. They were longer than normal. But before she could get into anything serious, Sherlock pulled away and straighter with his blank expression plastered all over his face. "Well, that was interest-" Sherlock noticed Molly's eyes widen, "an interesting experiment. I think I shall need to go and write that down." He now noticed that her jaw had dropped to the lowest it could go. _She's offended. How bitter am I? No, Sherlock, don't let _sentiment _take over your mind. Get back to your work. _"Please give this to my brother. I hate our little gatherings. Thank you, Doctor Hooper." He left without another word. _

"That night was the worst night of my life, Sherlock." Molly's eyes were brimming with tears, that night was the night her heart was broken. She had decided, however, to play it 'cool' around Sherlock when he visited; to never let him believe that she was weak. Something suddenly hit her, "I thought you said that you'd 'deleted' it from your mind?" She asked the man whom was still staring at her nervously.

"Molly, I-I never expected to hurt you so much. You have to understand that the things I was feeling for you were interfering with my goal and- I couldn't allow that. But now, Molly Hooper, you need to know the second thing that I wanted to tell you." Sherlock took her petite hands inside his own rather long and bony ones. "I have never had any experience with any kind of relationship. I have always assumed that love is a very big disadvantage. '_Love is a chemical defect found on the losing side'_ I always said. Now I know that my thoughts were wrong and maybe you can save me." Molly sat silently waiting for her heart to drop as he revealed how much he needed body parts from the Morgue.

"Sherlock, look. If you need a brain from the Morgue you could just ask nicely." She giggled quietly to herself impressed with her resilience.

"Molly, I-I think I love you." Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped just like it had done that day when he had first kissed her.

"What?"

"Please don't make me repeat myself, Molly."

"No, Sherlock, I know what you said. I just, you're lying... Surely?" Sherlock's hand moved to Molly's cheek. He kept it there as he moved her face once again to his giving her a soft kiss.

"Do you believe me now?" Molly nodded.

"Well-Erm. I think I better come back later." John rushed down the stairs, he hadn't noticed the pair so close together when he had entered the kitchen with Mrs Hudson. When had _this _all happened? "I only popped in for my book." He muttered to himself as he left the flat.

Molly giggled as Sherlock let out his deep and arousing chuckle. "I think we scared him. I didn't even realise he was here!" She plucked out of her mouth.

"I believe so too." Sherlock smiled to Molly, watching as her smile faded awkwardly. "What should we do now?"

"Oh, I really should be getting home-" Sherlock stopped her before she could move.

"Please stay, Molly." Molly's eyebrows raised as she waited for what he would do if she did. "I-I'll even watch that dreadful Doctor program you like." He smiled convincingly.

Molly gave Sherlock a slight slap on the arm. "It's called Doctor Who, silly. Do you have a particular request?" In response, Sherlock placed a delicate kiss upon Molly's nose and moved towards the television. While she waited, Molly sat back into the sofa hugging herself tightly. _I think I love you. I think I love you. I think I- _"Molly?" Her head shot up. "_Doctor Who _is starting." Sherlock sat beside her once more. She laid her head upon his shoulder and snuggled herself into his neck.

"_Amy, I'm gonna need a little help here."_

"_Just stop it." _

"_Just think this through. This will work. This will kill the angels."_

"_This will kill you too."_

"_Trust me, just push." _

"_I can't."_

"_You have to."_

"_Could you? If it was me, could you do it?"_

"_If it was to save you I would do anything." _

"Molly, why is this Amy standing beside him?"

Molly sighed and continued watching.

"_Together or not at all."_

"Oh, sentiment." Molly sighed once more. "Now, how can _that _be possible. Angels don't come to life, and people do not miraculously survive from falling off a build- Oh." Sherlock knew that he'd touched a soft spot.

"Sherlock, please, just watch it. The next bit is _really_ sad..."

"_Where's Rory?"_

"_I'm sorry. Amelia, I'm so, so sorry."_

"_No, no we can just go get him in the Tardis. One more paradox."_

"_We'd rip New York apart."_

"_That's not true. I don't believe you."_

"_Mother, it's true."_

"_Amy, what are you doing?"_

"_That gravestone, Rory's, there's room for one more name, isn't there?" _

"_What are you talking about? Back away form the angel. Come back to the Tardis, we'll figure something out."_

"_The angel, will it send me back to the same time? To him?"_

"_I don't know, nobody knows."_

"_But it's my best shot, yeah?"_

"_No!"_

"_Doctor, shut up. Yes, yes it is!"_

"_Amy-"_

"_Well then. I just have to blink, right?"_

"_NO!"_

"_It'll be all right. I know it will; I'll be with him, like I should be. Me and Rory, together. Melody-"_

"_Stop it! Just-Just stop it!"_

"_You look after him and you be a good girl and look after him."_

"_You are creating a fixed time, I will _never _be able to see you again."_

"_I'll be fine. I'll be with him!"_

"_Amy. Please, just come back, into the Tardis. Come one, Pond, please."_

"_Raggedy man. Goodbye..." _

Molly whimpered to herself, tears streaming from her eyes in their dozens as she watched her two favourite companions disappear forever. Sherlock also had tears in his eyes but he swiftly got rid of them and placed his arm around Molly. "Hey, it's okay." He whispered into her hair, placing a soft kiss onto her scalp.

"No, it's not okay, Sherlock. You just don't understand. In a minute you can look at him run for his friends. Would _you _run for _anyone _like that? John? Mrs Hudson? _...Me?_" Molly pushed herself away from the man and pulled her knees to her chest.

"Please, Molly. I need you to help me understand. I need you in order to understand." Sherlock was now looking at the ground, his headache had returned. "I have come to realise that my depth of understanding is so low that I need someone to help." Molly watched as Sherlock stood from the sofa and moved towards the television. "If I remember correctly, Miss Clara 'Oswin' Oswald is next on the list." When he returned to his place, Molly once again snuggled close.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock, I shouldn't have snapped."

"It's quite all right, Molly. I understand how you connect to these characters."

"Do you really?" She lifted her head so that she could look into Sherlock's eyes.

"No," Sherlock admitted and then pulled her body back towards his own. "but that scene upset me as well, you know."

"You're lucky that you weren't here when David Tennant regenerated into Matt Smith."

"Why?"

"You would have gotten _a lot _worse than you just got!" The pair laughed together as the Christmas Special came onto the screen.

"Molly?"

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"I need to ask you something." Molly nodded telling him that he could ask her. "Do you need tissues for this episode before we start?" He received a chuckle for his efforts at lifting her spirits.

"I shouldn't think so. Amy and Rory will always be my favourite companions just as 10 will be my favourite Doctor. I don't think Clara's death is _that _sad considering she dies over and over. In fact, I think she's slightly annoying." Her response received a slight chuckle from the Detective as he pulled her closer. "Sherlock," He hummed as he watched. "I love you." Molly whispered hoping that he wouldn't hear her.

"I love you too, Molly Hooper."

"_Run You Clever Boy And Remember."_

"I think I should say that to you more often and then maybe you'll remember things." Molly turned to the Detective to find him fast asleep, his head resting on the back of the sofa. Her fingers twirled around a small curl on his forehead and pushed it out of his eyes. Suddenly, there came a slam of the door downstairs.

A voice sung, "_Sherlock_. I still haven't burnt you..." _Moriarty!? _"I think we both know who killed those people, don't we? She's waiting for both of us." _She? _"I'm he-re!"

"Please, Sherlock. Listen to me." Molly whispered. "Run you clever boy and remember." She stood, placed a soft kiss on both Sherlock's forehead and his lips and walked towards the door.

"Hello, Miss Hooper." Moriarty stood in his classic Westwood suit, hands in his pockets and grinning like a child who had received a lollipop.

"Hello, Jim. I haven't seen you in a while. I see that you're still alive."

"Well noticed. Now, can you help me?"

"Help you with what, _exactly_?" Molly questioned the man standing in front of her.

"_Help me if you can, I'm feeling downnnn. _Do you remember 'The Beatles', Molly? They were so good in their time, and now look at them. They're just like you."

Molly laughed sarcastically and folded her arms. "'The Beatles' are still good, Moriarty. And no, I will not help you. I have chosen '_the side of the angels'._" She smiled and walked forward. "What. Do. You. Want?" She shouted in his face.

"Ooh. Sherlock's anger is rubbing off on you, my dear. I want you, Doctor Watson, Sherlock and Miss Adler to come with me. There's an old friend that is calling for us."

"Who are they?" Sherlock walked forwards to Moriarty, surprising Molly, as he pushed her behind him. _Protection? _"Who is this _old friend_? You and I do not have, _friends_."

"You've met my daughter, haven't you." Both of them nodded. "Chloe, my genius daughter. She's returned home now, to both of her parents. She fooled you, didn't she, Sherlock?"

"Yes, apparently she did. Twice."

"Wait, Sherlock. Who _are _you talking about?"

"Don't you remember our dear friend, Marie Kingston." Molly's eyes widened. "Do you remember her _before _she became Moriarty's second best friend?"

"Scarlett? Scarlett Hines is still alive? She died on that train." Sherlock and Moriarty both looked at Molly as she realised what was happening. "You have a _child _with her!?"

"Yes, and both want to see us. Now. Sherlock call John and Miss Adler. We need to go and see my family."

_**Moriarty... Hmm. I don't think that he will actually have survived a gun shot through the head, but it keeps things interesting, I suppose. And it is typical of him to have a genius daughter. Look how he is, eh? If you have any suggestions, I'd appreciate them! Thanks for reading!**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Hey. I thought I would just post this because I was bored and had nothing to do. Well, I should probably be helping with the rabbits but my younger brother isn't doing anything so it'll have to wait. Any way, I hope that you enjoy this chapter. I hope that it isn't too **_**weird_ is that the word? Enjoy!_**

* * *

_**Chapter 5**_

_**We meet again**_

"Sherlock?" "Sherlock?" "_Sher-lock_."

"Mhh."

"Ah, you're finally waking up. I thought that you might have left us before we could meet again." A pair of long, slender hands twirled themselves into Sherlock's hair as his head was pulled as far back as it would go. He winced but didn't make a sound. "You should really keep tabs on your ex's, Mr Holmes. You never know which one will pop up next." There was a small twist of laughter pacing behind him.

"But _you _are his only one, darling. 'The Virgin', don't you remember, Sherlock?" Sherlock couldn't see much but he knew that there were two standing figures that he could see dimly standing over his form. In the corners of his eyes there were two other figures that were also tied to chairs and one sitting sulking in another. _Molly. John. _Irene Adler... "You took longer than I expected to wake up, Sherlock, considering you've done _a lot _of drugs in your time. But that's not why we're here, is it?"

"No. It's not. Now, Jimmy, do we have to keep them tied up? I'm pretty sure that Molly and John are not _particularly_ life threatening and Sherlock here will want to know _exactly _what is going on. I think he'd be impressed." _Scarlett?_

"Hello, Scarlett. You're still alive. How many times is it that you have cheated death?" Sherlock shook his head out of her grasp and looked at his friends as they were untied. _Are you okay? _Molly stared at him with her normal sweet look. _I'm fine. _

Moriarty and Scarlett both laughter heartily. "Well, there was the first time where we met at the funeral. I saved your life, if I remember correctly. Then there was my tumour. Now this _was _interesting." John coughed loudly and stood from the chair. "What is it, Doctor Watson?"

"There _was _a time that you would call me _John_." He said simply. "Please, continue with your miraculous life story."

"We had to move to America for a few months to get this baby sorted." Scarlett continued, tapping her temple with her finger. "And then there was the train murder. I heard that you four were responsible for that little... _Trick_. Sorry, it's a bit of a predicament isn't it when you believe someone to be dead three times." She moved over to a table and sat with her legs crossed on it. "I would ask you how your investigation is going, Sherlock, but I've been told by my dear husband here, that you've had something else on your mind. Or, _someone, _in fact." Everyone's gazes turned to Molly. Her face flushed a deep shade of pink from her cheeks to her chest. _Fantastic_.

"I'm sorry, but why do you want to see _us _so badly?" Irene Adler finally spoke up. "I haven't seen you two since the day you left for America. You never got in touch." She pouted which caused Sherlock to scowl.

"If you don't mind, I would rather just get to the point of why you're holding us here." Sherlock was rather agitated with the whole 'friendship reunion'. "Molly and I were rather busy-"

"Sherlock..." Molly placed her head inside her hand in embarrassment.

"What? It was nothing compromising. We were simply watching Doctor Who, but you know that already."

"If you really want to know, Sherlock, you will need to get through to our daughter." Moriarty spoke up and sauntered towards the group. "We know that there's a reason she was found on that train."

"Why was she even there in the first place?" John asked the couple? "Surely you were with her, because you _are _her _parents_." The couple looked at each other as their gazes fell to the floor.

"We were not on the train with her, no."

"We need you to ask her some questions because she likes the pair of you," Scarlett gestured to John and Sherlock in turn. "however, we would prefer if it were only John. Our daughter could get- _changed_." John laughed sarcastically at Scarlett's feeble attempt at an excuse. "What's so funny, Doctor?"

"You." Moriarty stepped forward and took John by the neck.

"_You _do not understand our thoughts, Johnny. Our daughter could have been used in some way, _but _she will not assist us. Her _parents_." His grip loosened and John fell to the floor.

"I'll speak to her."

"And I'll come with you, John. It's the least I can do to help." Molly added. In truth, she didn't want to help her ex in any way, but if John and Sherlock were going to help then she'd have to as well.

"Thank you." Scarlett and Moriarty said in unison. "You two are free to go." Moriarty told Irene and Sherlock. They both rose and left the room, one behind the other, silence filled the corridor. "Thank you, once again."

"It's no problem. I don't really want to be charged for your murder, if I'm honest, Scarlett." John received a warm smile. God how he'd missed her all these years.

"So, Mr Holmes, what are _we _going to do while we wait for your two little pets to solve this mystery?" Irene Adler asked the Detective as they walked up the stairs to the flat. She practically heard his eyes roll before she continued. "Especially since Molly isn't here, we could have some fun. Just _you_ and _I_." She teased the man with as little effort as she could.

"I do not wish to do _anything _with _you, _Miss Adler, whether it involves sex or not." Sherlock put bluntly, throwing his coat onto the stand and slumping down onto the sofa. Irene took the coat and placed it neatly back onto the stand. Behind her back she was holding an object, though what it was Sherlock didn't know. Nor did he really care. "I suppose we could always watch Doctor Who, but that's mine and _Molly's _thing to do." When Sherlock looked back a the Woman he could see that she was no longer holding anything. Could he have imagined it? _God, I need sleep_. She approached him slowly.

"Come on, Sherlock. Just _live _a little." She purred as she got closer to his tired and frail body. Picking p his hand and placing his knuckles to her mouth she added, "I'm pretty sure that Miss Hooper cannot give you what _I _can. What was it you said to me the other night? Oh yes. 'You. _Repel. _Me.' Let's see how much I repel you now, eh?" Irene moved even closer to the Detective, planting small kisses on his hand. His wrist. His arm. She continued until she reached his collar bone. Sherlock couldn't move, his body too tired. He just presumed that this affection was from Molly. "What would she say?" Irene whispered to herself. "I hope I still count, Sherlock." Irene whispered into his ear as she kissed along his jaw and back down his neck. After a few more kisses she was straddling the Detective against the sofa. He only hummed in agreement as his eyes rolled backwards.

"Am I still _your _pathologist?" Irene asked as she started on Sherlock's buttons. It was typical of him to be wearing the purple shirt, wasn't it. Even she had to admit that it raised her heart rate a little higher than normal. Sherlock hummed once more as she started to place open mouthed kisses down his neck, collar bone and eventually his chest. "Are you tired, love?" She asked playfully. The Detective nodded and started to move in order to get up. Irene moved out of his way, took his hand and pulled him towards his bedroom.

Once they were there, Sherlock removed his shirt, shoes and socks and proceeded to get into his bed. Irene lifted her dress over her head and replaced it with Sherlock's shirt. _This is going well _she thought to herself. When she was happy with her look, a few of the buttons undone at the top, she slid into the bed next to Sherlock. He placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her body towards his chest. _I'll take that as an invitation_. Once again Irene started to place kisses up and down Sherlock's torso, she didn't need to go any further, but she would. She could hear the steps. Sherlock's name being called by another woman. _Molly._ She was here already? _Perfect_.

"Sherlock?" Molly called as she walked up the stairs. She could see that he wasn't in the living room or the kitchen. _The bedroom_. "Sherlock?" Irene moved herself so that she was straddling Sherlock again. She placed her lips onto Sherlock's and started to kiss him with every ounce of passion that she could manage. To her surprise, he kissed back. "Sherlock, you said you wanted me here," Molly started as she opened the door. "I trust it's import-" Her mouth fell as she watched Sherlock kiss Irene Adler back. He had his hands upon her waist as she caressed his cheekbones. "Sherlock?" Molly whispered and Sherlock snapped out of the kiss. He looked at the woman on top of him who smiled, gave a small wave and then rolled off him.

"M-Molly!" Sherlock tried, but with little success. She had already slammed his bedroom door and was running down the stairs. "What were you doing, Irene?" He snapped at the woman beside him.

"Proving something."

"To whom, _exactly_? The only thing you've proved here tonight is something to yourself. You can't keep your hands off me!" Sherlock shouted as he rose from the bed.

"No, I proved that _you _can't keep your hands off _me_." With a small wink, Irene flung his shirt off from her frame and replaced it with her dress for the evening. "Goodnight, Mr Holmes. I hope that Molly isn't _too _hurt over... _This_." Irene smiled at the man and then followed Molly into the street. She found her cowering at the front door, outside, crying as though her heart knew this was never going to happen. "Oh dear, he'll always come crawling back to me, I suppose." Molly ignored her as Irene walked into the street and disappeared into the darkness.

"Molly." A soft baritone voice said to her. "Molly, please. I-That wasn't my fault!" He insisted over and over.

"Wasn't your fault?! How stupid do you think I am, Sherlock?" Molly pushed herself from the step and faced the Detective. "You were kissing her back. She was wearing _your _shirt and nothing else! You were naked for all I could tell. Conclusion? You _slept _with _her_!?" Molly was now crying. Her heart was once more broken by the _same _man. This was worse than _that _night, though.

"Molly, I thought that she was you. She kissed my knuckles and then moved up and started talking and saying stuff like you. As _you _do. I was fooled by her once again. Tiredness fooling my mind alongside the one other woman that has interfered with my work, along with you. We did not sleep together, Molly." Sherlock told the smaller, fragile woman. He moved closer and placed a hand in front of him. "Please, Molly. Believe me." As stepped closer his vision started to blur. "Wha-What's happening?" He asked before he fell to the ground in front of Molly. The last thing he heard was her scream his name.

_Sherlock..._

_Sherlock..._

"_Now, now dear. I'm only taking Molly for a little ride. It'll be okay. But she won't be fr much longer." A feminine voice? Who could it be? "I hope she lasts long enough for you to see her again. Although, I would you rather be with me, Mr Holmes." _The Woman. _"See you later, Mr Holmes."_

"MOLLY!"

"Hey, Sherlock, it's okay."

"Where is _Molly_, John?"

"Irene Adler. She's taken her." Sherlock groaned in pain. "And we're no further into solving this mystery. I need your help with Chloe. As Lestrade says, 'Will you come'?"

* * *

_**I've discovered how you do the lines now. Stupid me, eh? I was just on Twitter and this picture of Porn Stars who look like Ben and Martin came up... The image is now burnt into my mind for eternity... Brilliant!? I hope that you enjoyed my latest. I'll update next Sunday because I'm not here from Wednesday until Saturday... I'm going to miss Graham Norton, which is b***s**t! At least I'll be in Paris though! :)**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**I'm sorry that this chapter took a while to write. I've been revising for mocks and I've had writer's block. Oh, and I went to Paris... **_**Which _meant that I missed _BENEDICT _on Graham Norton! It was so funny when I watched it though! I think that Ben, Harrison Ford and Jack Whitehall should do a show together. :) Any way, enjoy. Sorry if it's a bit OOC...!?_**

_**Chapter 6**_

"_**Tut, tut Miss Hooper."**_

Molly's vision was clouded with sleep. It wasn't the sleep that she remembered normally getting though. This one had drained her completely compared to reviving her, and it didn't seem like one she would take willingly. There was barely any light, from what she could see, in where she had awoken, but she could tell that it was a cold and lonely place which she'd never seen before.

"Wakey, wakey." A familiar voice struck her ears, teasing just like she'd remembered the Doctor doing once. "Tell me, Miss Hooper, do you remember the day that John said goodbye to Sherlock?" The voice asked. _Irene Adler. _"It was such a moving speech, as I remember. Do you know what he said to him, Miss Hooper?" Molly shook her head. Of course she knew, but Irene already knew that for herself. Now she was just showing off. "I'll repeat them to you shall I?" Irene stood up to clear her throat and then a look of realisation hit her face. "_Or, _I can get the man himself to repeat them! What do you think, _Doctor Watson_?" Irene stepped towards a figure in the darkness and pulled him forward so that Molly could see him clearly. It _really _was John.

"John?" Molly smiled weakly at her friend, it didn't last long though as she remembered she was really here.

"Go on, Doctor Watson. Repeat your _moving _speech to dear Molly here." Irene stuck her nails into John's neck,; he didn't let out a single whimper as the nails continued to dig deeper. "Oh, do come along!"

John let out a sigh, looked Molly straight in the eyes and then began to repeat what he said all those years ago to his friend's grave. "You told me once... That you weren't a hero. There were times when I didn't even think you were _human_," Molly's view started to blur as she watched John relive a moment in his life that broke _her _heart more than it did his. "but let me tell you this. You were the _best _man. The most _human_, human being that I've ever known, and no one will _ever _convince me that you told me a lie. Yeah, so." Her vision cleared slightly as the tears escaped down her face; she could now see John, tearless, clearly. "I was so alone, and I owe you so much. No, there's just one more thing. One more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't. Be. _Dead_. Would you do that just for me? Just stop it. Stop _this_." John never even created a single tear in his eyes.

"Tut, tut Miss Hooper. No tears are allowed. You should know. Being with Sherlock Holmes and all." Irene snickered as Molly's eyes dropped to her lap. John didn't know _exactly _what was happening now between Sherlock and Molly.

"What do you mean, '_being _with Sherlock Holmes'? Molls and Sherlock aren't _together_!" John looked at the expressions that littered both Molly and Irene's faces. Molly's was filled with embarrassment and guilt, whilst Irene's had a certain glint of achievement hidden in it. "Are _you_?" He asked Molly, whom now looked up sheepishly at him. She nodded once and then returned her head to its downward facing position. "Jesus. I saw Sherlock give you a kiss, didn't I? _God. _I must have wiped it from my memory. I'm sorry, Molls."

"Don't be sorry, John. I'm fi-"

"Oh, please. Can we _please _get on with the interesting stuff now!" Irene interrupted walking forward to Molly. "Why don't you tell her, Doctor Watson, how _you _came to be here."

John cleared his throat once more and looked Molly up and down. She was still staring down at her legs. _Too much for her? _"Irene Adler here was waiting for me outside the flat. A bit _risky_, don't you agree, Molls?" John managed to flash Molly a wink when she peered up at him for a few seconds.

"_Risky_ indeed, John. In fact, I'm _pretty _sure that Sherlock is here right now. Could you get any more _stupid_, Miss Adler?" Molly added slyly. John had a plan, and she _would _stick to it like glue. He had more experience after all.

"He is the World's only Consulting Criminal, and he _has _outsmarted you before. It wouldn't be too _difficult _to do it again, now would it-" The next thing the pair knew, a fist connected with both of their jaws, one after the other, as Irene's anger had built up inside her. _Jealous much? _

"I have an idea. Let's play a _game_, shall we? How did _you _react to Sherlock's return, and how did he show his face to you both again?" Irene's smile was mischievous but cold. It was obvious that she was planning something in order to hurt Molly more than John. "You first, Doctor Watson." Her gaze turned towards John.

"Fine. Erm... It was the night I was actually going to propose to Mary, but _he_ decided that it would be a _good_ idea to destroy that night and return from the dead. Mary and I were sitting in a restaurant, which was perfect for the occasion might I add, when the doors opened. I didn't notice the man that stepped in with the doors at first, but I knew that they took his coat and he had his hand placed on his jacket buttons. I thought _nothing _of it because I was talking to a woman who was, and still is, _very _important to me. We were in the middle of a conversation when the figure from the door came and stood by the table." John swallowed, _hard_. Molly decided that this was hurting him more than he was letting on. "Any way. This man said to the pair of us, '_John?'_. Nothing more. Nothing less. To start off with any way. I initially ignored him, but Mary looked up. I asked him to go away so that I could finish dinner with my girlfriend, but he didn't move. Mary, on the other hand, looked back at me and then the man. She placed her hand onto mine and told me to 'look up and listen'. I-I couldn't see him at first. Just straight past him, until his baritone voice brought me back to reality. 'John, it _really _is _me' _he said. It _was_ him. The man I watched fall from the top of a building right in front of me _three _years previously."

"What happened next, Doctor Watson?" Irene all but purred to the man.

"I asked, '_Sherlock? _No. This, this isn't happening! How are you _here_?'. I managed to attract the attention of the whole restaurant with my shouting. Sherlock tried to explain himself, well, I say explain. What I really mean is that he told me he '_had _to do _it_'. I couldn't listen. There was a nagging sound gripping in my mind and in my fist until finally my clenched fist was connecting with Sherlock's jaw." Molly could now see tears in John's eyes. "Then, I left. There's nothing more to say. Can we move on now?" Irene laughed at the doctor, clearly amused by his reaction. Maybe Sherlock deserved it. _But, _then_, so do I _Molly thought.

She decided to speak up and tell John what she thought about his reaction; _it will hurt him, Molly. Don't do it. _"John, you know that I helped him with... _Everything. _Why didn't you, well, _hate _me?"

"Molls, don't-"

"No, John, I _need _to know. What was the difference between Sherlock telling you he was back and me telling you that a friend, who you'd grown close to during his death, had helped him throughout the three years, almost continually. Tell me, John, _truthfully._ What. Was. _Different_?" Molly was now out of breath. Why had she done that?

"I didn't want to lose another friend, in all honesty, Molls. You'd been so good to me during those three years and I-I didn't want to lose _you_." John pressed his lips into a small line and looked back at Irene Adler. "What's next?"

"I think it's time we hear Miss Hooper's reaction. Miss Hooper, how did _you _react to Sherlock's return?"

Molly sighed and then looked at both of the other in the room in turn. "Sherlock came to me the night before he planned to see John. He was _clearly _nervous about his return because it _had _been _three _years. Even he couldn't have predicted that he would be away _that _long, and he needed some comfort. It isn't that interesting _really_. He appeared at my door like he always did when he stayed and I hugged him. We watched Doctor Who together, I think it was the episode where we found out that River Song was the astronaut and she decided that she wouldn't kill the Doctor because she loved him too much..."

"Eh, hem."

"Sorry. We always watched Doctor Who together when he stayed over but tonight he seemed on edge. We hadn't spoken through the whole episode until he spoke softly. '_Molly,_' he said, 'I've finished what I needed to do'. I looked at him quickly to see that he was staring at me. I asked him whether he was truly coming back and he nodded. I hugged him again and then he fell asleep in my lap. I knew that he had been crying softly, why I don't know, because there was a patch of tears on my leggings from where he'd been crying. He was so silent when he cried, I didn't even notice. But, erm, in the morning he told me what his plan was to tell you John, and _apparently _he didn't stick to it. I could see the tears in his eyes, but when I asked about it he quickly blinked them away. He wasn't himself. And hasn't been since, obviously." Molly finished and then looked at John who, was now, looking down at the ground. She knew that he didn't like hearing about his best friend's pain, but it needed to be said. Especially if Irene Adler would let them go quicker.

"Thank you, Miss Hooper." Irene smiled before sitting down on Molly's lap. "Now, do you want to know how Sherlock showed _me _how he was alive?"

"Not _particularly_." John managed to mutter from his zoned out phase.

"Now, now Doctor Watson. You both got to tell your stories, so why don't I tell you mine, eh. It was after he'd been to see you, Doctor Watson. He came to me that night and I helped him clean up. He always knows where I am, for _some _reason or another, and he chose that night to lose his, well, you know." Irene turned round so that Molly's newly questioning eyes could see her wink.

"Sherlock Holmes, the man who you clearly have some _over-exaggerated _crush on, happened to just go over to where _you _were staying and shag you?" John completed for her; his mind and heart didn't believe that he would hurt Molly like that. And he _definitely _wouldn't stoop as low as _Irene Adler_.

"No-no. That can't... Sherlock wouldn't do... No."

"Oh, believe it, Miss Hooper, he chose me before _you _all those nights ago. He never came to me again though. _Shame_. No _wonder _it took him so long to get with you, Miss Hooper. Too ashamed? What. No answer? Too disappointed in Sherlock because he chose the better of the two women sitting here. Oh, don't worry, dear. I'm sure that he would have told you..." Irene placed a kiss on Molly's lips and then stood from her lap, "_eventually._" Soon, Irene's laughter filled the room. She could see that Molly had started to whimper and she was _definitely _enjoying that sight. But when she looked to John, she could see his shoulder and head bobbing. Was he, _laughing_? _No! This isn't right! "_And, _what _are you finding so _funny_, Doctor Watson?"

John managed to stop himself laughing enough to tell her, "You are _so _bad at lying, Miss Adler."

"How, _exactly_? No lies are being told." Irene insisted which cause both Molly and John to burst into a fit of laughter. "What?! What have I missed?"

"It-It's just, Sherlock was with Mary, Molls and I the whole night for a case that Lestrade gave him that day! Pfftt!" John and Molly both broke out in laughter again and started to jump around. "Hahaha! Sorry-So... Oh dear. Molls, I-I think I-I'm going to p-pee myself...! Haha!" Molly and John both fell onto the ground, Molly still tied to the chair, and started to hit the ground. Well, John any way.

"Stop it! Stop laughing!" Irene shouted to them but the laughing didn't cease. "SHUT UP!" Molly and John both looked up at The Woman with innocent and guilty faces, much like ones from 5 year olds. "You two really _are _Sherlock Holmes' friends, aren't you. Why can't you just act like _adults?" _

"I think Mycroft asked us to do that once, but that was because Sherlock was in just a sheet..." John finished his sentence as Molly started to laugh some more. He controlled his laughter and managed to give her an 'evil' look to try and shut her up.

"Sorry, I just _love _that story." Molly admitted before asking Irene, "So, why are we here, Miss Adler?" Two stares were now on the dark haired woman as she helped Molly back up right on the chair.

"I have brought you here willingly-"

"Pfft. _Willingly_? If you don't remember, you _drugged _me and-"

"She drugged the pair of us, Molls. I don't know whether that fits in the criteria of '_willingly_', do you?" Molly shook her head; she really didn't like Irene.

"What was it that I said to you on the first day of this case, Miss Hooper?" Irene purred as she stepped closer to the younger woman once more.

"Why, do you think me incompetent?"

"No, no not at all, Miss Hooper. Sherlock does though." Irene watched as Molly's face ceased to change; she was slightly caught out. Maybe her tricks would no longer work on the Pathologist. "Fine. What did I say? And tell me exactly, otherwise I'll drug you and make sure that you are _never _attractive to Mr Holmes, _again_." A silent laughter crumpled Irene's features.

"Although I'm sure that Sherlock doesn't care for my looks, I'll tell you any way." Molly cleared her throat and put on her best Irene Adler impression, in fact, John liked it so much he couldn't stop himself from chuckling as she was talking. "You expect me to try and get along with this frail excuse of a woman? She's a pathologist who practically throws herself at Sherlock so that he will notice her. And has he? _No._" Irene smiled and then took another step forward. Her mouth bobbed open, but no words left as Molly continued with their conversation. "I then called you a whore. I'm pretty sure you're still a whore, Miss Adler. From what Sherlock told me about that case that he stopped you in, you had been with many people in order to get information. I know that it was _supposedly _your job, but you do not have the right to steal every man away from everyone else-"

"Thank you, Miss Hooper. I'm sure that is enough, for now."

"Are you sure? I'm sure that I can remember the rest-" Molly stopped abruptly, recognising that there was a new figure and voice in the room. Someone had found them! "Mycroft?" She whispered into the darkness. Sure enough, Mycroft Holmes, umbrella and all, stepped out from the shadows and walked towards Irene.

"Miss Hooper, Doctor Watson. If you both wouldn't mind leaving Miss Adler and I to talk. We have some, _urgent, _things to discuss." Mycroft's lips turned into a sly smirk as he walked forward to where Molly was sat and broke the rope that still held her there. "Now, thank you."

Molly and John both left the room quickly knowing that the elder Holmes brother would give them a few tonnes of paperwork for them to fill in if they didn't do as he asked. When they were free of both Irene and Mycroft's stares they hugged each other tighter than they had held anyone else recently.

"Molls, erm... I think your boyfriend may want you back." John whispered before Molly turned around to see Sherlock staring at both of them blankly. "Hey, Sherlock." He placed his hand on his friend's shoulder before rushing down the stairs; he didn't want to separate such a dangerous man from what he wanted.

"Molly Hooper. I've been looking for you." Sherlock continued to stare at Molly as they both started to walk slowly towards each other. His eyes were fixed on hers. Molly would say like something in a movie, _tedious_, but they both knew that there was something more to their relationship now that was more than just a normal relationship.

"Sherlock Holmes. I've been expecting you." Molly stopped realising how her words sounded. _James Bond, Molly. Really?! _Much to her surprise, Sherlock managed to smile and tug her in to his embrace. Each side managed to breathe a sigh of relief, relief in the fact that they'd found each other so quickly.

"Molly, do you remember that time that we watched Doctor Who together and you told me why Rory was so _angry _about the Doctor not paying any attention to Amy Pond being dead?"

Molly got closer to her Detective. It felt good, thinking that. _Her _detective. "No, remind me of the words." She expected Sherlock to roll his eyes. His eyes continued to stare as he spoke.

"I would, if I had the time."

"The _time_?"

"All of creation has just been _wiped _from the sky. Do you know _how _many live now _never _happened? All the people who _never _lived. Your _girlfriend _isn't more important than the whole universe."

Molly gave Sherlock a light slap on the cheek before whispering in his ear, "She _is _to _me_!" The pair stayed in each other's embrace for a few moments more before Molly asked, "So, what should we do now?" A small smile crept onto Sherlock's lips.

"Oh, I have a _few _ideas, Miss Hooper." Sherlock placed a soft kiss onto Molly's lips before looking back at her.

"_Dinner_?"

Sherlock smiled at her, "My treat." Hand in hand, they walked down the stairs of the building, never letting go and never saying a word. Well, that was until they got outside.

"Wait, Sherlock. _Where _are we?"

"Irene Alder's house." He laughed and managed to knock into Molly as he walked. "Now. Angelo's or somewhere else?" Sherlock didn't really know any other restaurants, so Angelo's seemed safest.

"Angelo's." Molly smiled.

_**Thank you for reading! :)**_


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